


The Promise of Bethmoora

by serenityabrin



Category: Hellboy (Movies 2004-2008)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Canon What-If AU, Enemies to Lovers, Fantasy Politics, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Slow Build, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24580324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenityabrin/pseuds/serenityabrin
Summary: Nuada, Nuala, and King Balor all surviveHellboy II. King Balor makes a treaty with the BPRD to stop the war Nuada tried to start. A human must marry Nuada to ratify the treaty, and the elven gods decide only John will do.
Relationships: John Myers/Nuada
Comments: 34
Kudos: 230
Collections: Fandom 5K 2020





	1. Chapter 1

A sudden rumble in the earth shook the ground beneath John's feet. He watched as the rocks around him moved on their own to create a towering figure of stone. A year ago, the sight would have left him slack-jawed in awe.

Now, he only watched curiously as the giant figure settled and a door opened in its chest.

"Wait here," said Secretary Rollands.

John watched as the Secretary, his assistant, and two agents disappeared through the doorway into the shadows.

Pacing an unhurried circuit before the rock-giant, John ignored the other agents standing guard. There were a dozen of them, but none of them were familiar.

No one from the New Jersey BPRD was here. No one from Antarctica either. Hellboy, Liz, Abe—they had left the BPRD altogether. Not even John's family had been allowed to know what was going on.

He supposed that was for the best, even if there was a part of himself that felt bereft. He had never imagined his wedding day like this.

Indeed, it didn't feel like his wedding day at all. Shortly, he was going to exchange vows with an elf he'd never met before—an elf by all accounts who would rather gut him than marry him—and move in with the elves.

If Hellboy leaped out and yelled, "Surprise! It's all a joke," right now, John wouldn't be shocked.

It wasn't a joke though, and the stakes couldn't be higher.

John tried to calm the anxious butterflies in his stomach. This was just another mission. A lifelong mission, but a mission all the same.

He made a concerted effort not to look at his watch as he wandered about, knowing every second felt stretched while he waited. He had no idea how long it was before Secretary Rollands and the others returned.

"You're up, Myers." He gestured for John to join them at the shadowed door.

Rather than allow John to enter, Rollands crossed his arms and frowned at him. "Do you have any questions?"

John had hundreds of questions, but none that Rollands could answer. "No."

"This is the culmination of months of work, Agent Myers. I trust I don't have to reiterate how important it is that this marriage succeeds."

"I know what _you_ need," John said. The BPRD had made it very clear when they'd told him about the arranged marriage and the danger of the Golden Army. Hellboy had admitted, reluctantly, that he had been unable to defeat even one soldier in the army. No human weapon could defend against them. If the elves did unleash their army, then humanity was screwed.

Diplomacy had solved the problem millennia ago, and diplomacy had been called upon again. Diplomacy and the intervention of one of the elven gods, apparently. That was one of the topics Secretary Rollands hadn't been able to explain. John knew the stakes for the BPRD, but he knew nothing of the elven side of the equation. The only clues he had were the stipulations the elves had asked for in the treaty his imminent marriage would ratify, and that had not touched on John's particular assignment.

It wasn't the first time he had undertaken a mission blind. It wasn't ideal, but he would do his damnedest to make this work. An army of indestructible soldiers made that paramount.

Secretary Rollands continued to frown. John knew he wasn't Rollands' first choice—or even his hundredth—but John had been an acceptable candidate to the elven gods so the Secretary had to work with what he had. John wished he knew why the gods had chosen him. He hoped it wasn't because of his supposedly "pure heart".

It probably was.

"Alright. Let's go." Secretary Rollands gestured with his chin, and moved out of John's way. Rollands and the two agents entered after him, but everyone else stayed outside.

John had no idea what he expected Bethmoora to be like, but it certainly wasn't what he found. After winding his way through a maze of tunnels, the underground passage opened up abruptly to a cavern of an almost inconceivable size. That wasn't the unexpected part.

What surprised him was the decay. Massive columns of stone supported the ceiling, and it seemed like each column wore a skirt of houses and walkways: an entire town unto each. But even from a distance, John could see the structures were crumbling and dirty. A haze hung in the air, and John felt his throat itch.

Rollands slipped in front of John, not giving him a moment to take in his surroundings. The Secretary strode purposefully out onto a bridge that spanned the great expanse.

As John followed him, he saw that the walkways of the nearest cavern wall had been hastily repaired and were filled with spectators. Elves, goblins, trolls, fairies—every sundry magical being: an entire nation of peoples.

No humans anywhere though.

John turned his focus to what was in front of him. At the apex of the bridge, a platform had been set, and an impressive group of beings were assembled there. The King sat upon a temporary throne, flanked on either side by a group of menacing knights with bird-helmets. A handful of advisors lingered near the railings, and a group of high-ranking nobles was arrayed on the other side of the bridge. A tall, gangly creature in rich robes stood before an altar; John recognized him from his briefings as the Chamberlain.

John noted all of this, but his eyes zeroed in on the two elves standing near the altar. He had seen the security footage; he could identify Nuala and Nuada. The video hadn't prepared him for how beautiful they were. Nuada in particular had a predatory grace that the footage had not been able to show. Under other circumstances, John would be quite happy with his chosen husband. Nuada was handsome and exotic. His clothes fit snuggly around a strong body, and John had seen what that body could do in a fight. He was John's type, dialed up to eleven.

But seeing them was like a bucket of cold water. Everything before this—the two weeks of preparations and endless meetings detailing the political necessity of the marriage—had felt dreamlike and unreal.

Now, he could see the coldness in Nuada's eyes as his gaze fell on John. It hit John at this moment that this was really happening. He was taking part in an arranged marriage, and his future husband hated everything human.

John's stomach dropped. How could he go through with this? Marry someone who could never love him? Could never respect him?

Glancing over the edge of the bridge, John saw a sea of golden eggs far below. The Golden Army.

How could John refuse?

Uneasy, John nonetheless did not break stride as he followed Secretary Rollands to the platform. Rollands gestured John towards the altar, and then moved to stand before the King. Bowing, he said, "May I present John Myers to his Majesty?"

The King's expression was hard to read as he studied John. John did not look away, although he could feel Nuada's dark presence from where he stood only a few feet away.

John wondered what the King saw when he looked at him, and he doubted it was flattering. John had few illusions about himself. Against the splendor of the prince standing beside him, he had to seem quite disappointing.

But appearances weren't everything. He was determined to prove himself here.

The King said something in elvish. Rollands nodded, expression guarded. It frustrated John that he didn't understand. While the treaty to end the war had been months in the making, John had been selected—and informed—only two weeks ago. There had been no time to pick up the elven language

The King turned his attention to Nuada, and spoke to him next. John glanced at his husband-to-be. Nuada's jaw was set in a hard line, and he did not look happy. But his voice was steady when he said, "I am here, am I not?"

The King did not look impressed with his answer, but he merely gestured to start the ceremony.

John turned to the Chamberlain standing on the other side of the altar. Instead of candles or flowers, there was a parchment on the altar—the treaty, waiting the exchange of vows.

The Chamberlain extended his ridiculously long arms to both sides and said, "We are here to mark an historic occasion. It has been the custom of our people since the hallowed days spent beneath the shelter of Aiglin Father Tree that the strife of war and violence may be ended and healed by the marriage of former rivals. We gather together today to again uphold this cherished tradition so that we may never need fear the rise of the Golden Army again."

John glanced out of the side of his eye towards Nuada, catching his scowl.

"Nor is that the only hope that draws us here." John frowned, unsure what the Chamberlain was referring to. Unfortunately, he continued without elaborating, "But let us start here." 

The Chamberlain gestured towards Nuada. "Here stands Prince Nuada, son of King Balor and Queen Boann, Silverlance of the elves, as representative of his people." The Chamberlain turned his focus to the prince. "Are you willing to enter into this union for the sake of peace and the future prosperity of your people?"

"I am." John noted he didn't sound too pleased about it, but he also didn't hesitate.

The Chamberlain ducked his head in a shallow bow, and then gestured towards John. "Here stands John Myers, son of Frank and Mary Myers, federal agent, as representative of his people." Now the Chamberlain looked at him. "Are you willing to enter into this union for the sake of peace and the future prosperity of your people?"

"I am." John only hoped that was what would actually happen.

The Chamberlain nodded to him, and looked up again at the masses. "All of you who are witness here today, have you come in good faith to set aside old grievances and look forward to a new dawn of peace?"

The answer was in too many languages and with too much noise for John to be certain, but the Chamberlain took it as assent. "Then let us proceed."

He gestured to the side, and a strange creature with what appeared to be a house for a head came forward. It was holding a wicked-looking knife in its long-fingered hand.

Turning to Nuada again, the Chamberlain said, "Do you, Nuada Silverlance, take this human, John Myers, to be your lawful and abiding husband? Do you vow to protect him from all dangers, support him in all endeavors, and provide for his well-being?"

John saw Nuada glance at him, and his expression was as far from happy as a man's could be. His voice was tight and angry when he said, "I do."

The Chamberlain was silent, and it was soon apparent he was waiting for something more. Nuada finally ground out, "I pledge my troth to this man."

Nodding in satisfaction, the Chamberlain looked to the strange house-head creature. Nuada lifted his hand, and let the creature cut his palm. Making a fist, he held out his bleeding hand so that blood dripped over the treaty.

Then Nuada stepped back without warning, and John saw how it startled the Chamberlain. The prince turned to his sister, and left John standing there alone.

Nuala raised a hand to stop him, but Nuada merely took it, pulling out a bandage from his belt. John watched the tender ministration as Nuada wrapped the cloth around Nuala's bleeding palm. He remembered now what he had read in a briefing—that the siblings were linked: one suffered the wounds of the other. That was all this was.

Nuada did not bandage his own hand, letting it drip.

Once the prince returned to the altar, the Chamberlain turned his attention to John and said, "Do you, John Myers, take Nuada Silverlance to be your lawful and abiding husband? Do you vow to be honest and steadfast in all matters of communication and decisions?"

"I do." John was a little miffed that no one thought him capable of protecting his husband in turn, but he knew better than to mention it now. "I pledge my troth to Nuada."

Having seen what just happened to Nuada, John held his hand out to the house-head creature. The knife was so sharp that he didn't feel the slice until he flexed his hand and a bright line of red appeared. Pain bloomed, but it was bearable.

John did not make a fist, but merely tipped his hand over the treaty so his blood ran onto it. Now that he looked at it, he thought it was not made of paper but maybe fabric or something else.

Stepping back, John waited to see what would happen next.

"I now pronounce you married." The Chamberlain turned his attention to the crowd and said, "Let this be the last blood spilt."

The crowd chanted in many languages, but it was clearly a repetition of the Chamberlain's words.

He continued, "Now, let us join our voices in beseeching the gods to bless this union and the peace it offers."

Again, the crowd repeated the benediction. The many words and noises echoed throughout the vast cavernous space for a moment, and then it felt like something swallowed all sound up. An eerie silence fell over the assembled. John could see those around him shifting nervously on their feet and looking around, but he heard nothing.

The Chamberlain gestured uneasily towards the prince.

For the first time, Nuada looked uncertain. Not, John thought, of what he was supposed to do. It was something else. John watched curiously as Nuada finally turned fully to him.

Nuada's expression was grave but not as hostile as before. There was a resoluteness to the set of his shoulders as he extended his bleeding hand to John.

John mirrored the action with his own bleeding hand, not sure what was needed here. Nuada took his hand, blood to blood, and directed their joined hands over the treaty.

A gentle wind blew in, so faint that John would not have noticed it save for the scent of the sea that it carried with it. He breathed deeply, feeling for the first time as if he could truly breathe down here.

Around him, a fog began to grow. It filled out the cavern floor so that John could no longer see the Golden Army. A quiet murmur began in the crowd, and it quickly grew in volume. John did not know the words, but it sounded like chanting. Something said over and over again.

There was something musical about it, but John's view of the crowd became obscured as the fog grew thicker and thicker. Soon, everything was hidden except for Nuada and the altar beside them.

John frowned in confusion. Nuada's hold remained firm, and it felt weird to hold his hand like this, their blood sticky between them.

The chanting continued, becoming eerie in a different way to the silence before as the disembodied voices seemed to float on the thick fog. John wasn't sure if he was supposed to be doing or saying anything. He took his cue from Nuada, who appeared fairly inscrutable to John.

A breeze ruffled John's hair, and he turned instinctively. John wouldn't swear it, but he thought he saw a face in the fog. Not a person indistinct in the near distance. No, a face made of fog. A giant face.

And it seemed to be smiling at him.

Another gentle ruffle, and it seemed like a hand was touching him. The foggy face regarded him steadily.

John glanced at Nuada, but the prince did not seem to see what John did.

Looking back, the face was still there, still regarding him. It reared up and then the fog seemed to slide inside John.

 _Yes, you are exactly what is needed,_ an airy voice echoed inside John's head. _Do not be afraid. Believe in yourself, and all that was foretold will manifest. You will do great things, John Myers. Know that you are not alone, and I have given you what you need to succeed. I have faith in you._

The fog passed through him, and the face disappeared. John glanced at Nuada again. He found the prince looking directly at him, a look of surprise on his face. Nuada's fingers fluttered, as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to let go or not.

A sudden brightness drew John's attention to the treaty. The gentle breeze had blown it an inch off the altar, and it glowed. Before John's eyes, the blood on the fabric-paper became golden, and the fabric itself became silver. Not just in color, but in actual metal. When the treaty fell back to the table, it did so with a solid-sounding plop.

In that same instant, the fog disappeared completely. The voices stopped, as everyone looked around in wonder.

The decaying landscape from only a few minutes ago was replaced by cities of gold and silver. New bridges spanned the distances between the pillar-cities. What was broken was fixed. Statues and fountains sprung up from the ground far below. The ceiling was studded with so many gems that it seemed like there was a night sky of stars.

There was no sign of the Golden Army.

"Behold!" the Chamberlain's voice boomed out. "The Promise of Bethmoora has been fulfilled!"

A wild cheer broke out from the crowd. John could see them hugging each other with obvious relief and dancing with delight.

Their infectious joy had a smile tugging at John's mouth. For a moment, he wondered if this was the good his new marriage would cause. He didn't know what this was, exactly, but it was a lot.

The smile died, though, when Nuada suddenly pulled his hand away as if stung. John saw that their hands were healed. No sign of the bloodletting.

John looked questioningly at his new husband, but Nuada's cold expression returned.

Shoulders slumping, John felt silly for feeling rejected.

***

John had no chance to speak to his new husband until many hours later. Immediately after the exchange of vows, the proceedings had been filled with the formalities of copying the treaty for Secretary Rollands, who had made himself scarce after that, with only a warning look to John as a goodbye.

Celebrations and a feast followed as soon as he was gone, clearly more for the restoration of Bethmoora than any joy over the wedding. John found himself in the peculiar situation where he seemed completely superfluous to the events around him but he also couldn't leave.

He had never imagined being so ignored at his wedding day. It just highlighted for him what kind of marriage this was.

John bore it all with quiet acceptance, seeing immediately that today was for Nuada's people. It wouldn't do any good to make a fuss straight out of the gate. Having happy people was a good start for John's mission to bridge their worlds, he supposed. But it did make the whole wedding feel that much more surreal and unreal to him.

After the feast and speeches, massive stone giants had unrolled themselves from the depths of the cavern. Holding their hands together, they created a platform for the transit of the royal family – which now included John. The guards arrayed themselves up on the giant's arms, and the stone creature lumbered off further into the massive cavern.

John was finally alone with the royal family, including his new husband. He would've been happier about that if Nuada deigned to even look at him. As it was, the prince was standing on the other end of the giant's hands looking out at the passing scenery.

Perhaps sensing the strain, Nuala approached John with a smile. "It is an honor to have you here, John Myers. Truly. I cannot express how grateful I am—we all are—that you agreed to this marriage."

Grateful for her friendly openness, John jumped at the chance to get a few questions answered. "I admit, this is a bit strange from my perspective. Arranged marriages aren't really a thing anymore." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I was only informed of all of this about two weeks ago. Honestly, I didn't even know we were enemies or at war."

"We should not have been." Nuala glanced at her brother, but his back was to them. "We made a truce with your kind centuries ago, but there was no marriage then. Perhaps, this time, with the proper ritual observed, there will be no breach of trust."

She frowned at her brother's back, and John knew her words were more for her brother than for him. None of them were so far away that he couldn't hear what they said. There was no response. John wasn't sure he wanted to step in the middle of this.

But that was where he was now, wasn't he? Right in the middle, married to the enemy.

"I certainly hope that's the case," John said, awkward. "What I was getting at was that I'm not familiar with arranged elven marriages and what is expected of me—how they're different from a normal human marriage."

Nuala smiled. "There is no difference."

John knew his expression was skeptical. "Two people who have never met and there's no difference?"

"Well, perhaps not exactly a normal marriage," Nuala agreed, "but we do not see the outcome being different. If you marry for love, then you know what is expected of you."

The King nodded, saying something in elvish. Nuala translated for him. "A marriage built despite adversity can be the bedrock of true change." Nuala smiled at that, clearly understanding more than what John could glean. "And a great love too, is that not right, your Majesty?"

John glanced at Nuada, seeing him cross his arms over his chest. But he still did not respond, and John was growing a little irritated at that.

Looking back at Nuala, he said, "I feel that I'm missing something."

"We have great hope for your union," Nuala said, nodding to her brother to include him in her meaning, "because we have seen it before. The King and Queen—our father and mother—were married under such circumstances. Their love was a light to our people, bringing lasting peace."

There was a distinct lack of the Queen here, though. John glanced again at Nuada's back, and saw the tension there. He turned his gaze to the King, and saw a faint sadness in his eyes.

John wasn't stupid. This wasn't a question to ask. Not now anyway.

Instead, he said, "Lasting peace is why I'm here."

The King replied, and Nuala's expression turned serious. Even Nuada glanced back briefly at his father, although his expression was unreadable. John was frustrated anew at his inability to understand what was said.

Turning back to John, Nuala said, "The King reminds us that the stakes of your marriage are a hundred-fold his own." She gestured out at the wall-city they were slowly passing. "All of this is possible because of your union. Should your marriage fail, then so too will the Promise of Bethmoora. The city we are seeing will once again decay to dust, and the Golden Army used to fuel it will rise once again."

"No pressure then," John muttered.

Nuala's smile turned awkward. "I am sure it will be fine. You will find the lasting love that our parents enjoyed, and our city will stand as strong as your marriage." She looked at Nuada. "Isn't that right, brother?"

Apparently unable to ignore a direct question from his sister, Nuada turned. If John was hoping he'd finally say something—anything—of substance, he was to be disappointed.

"The Royal Palace," Nuada said, pointing before them.

The rock giant carrying them headed for a truly impressive palace that seemed to be floating in the middle of the giant cavern. It was perched high atop a tall pillar of stone, like an island in the hazy mist. Bridges extended to the cavern walls and up into the ceiling of the cave where more buildings were hanging. An entire empire here underground.

There was no time to ask more questions as the giant set them down at the edge of the palace island.

Retainers who had gone ahead were there to greet them. The King and Nuala took formal farewell of John and Nuada, following a servant deeper into the palace.

A different servant directed John and Nuada to their own rooms.

John was impressed by what he found. There was a spacious parlor with a giant fireplace on one side. Couches were arranged in front of it, and a massive table with ornate chairs about it was set in an alcove near the back. The fireplace was open on two sides, warming a study reached by doors on either side of it.

The study walls were filled from floor to high ceiling with shelves of books and scrolls and strange objects. Two desks occupied opposite sides of the room, with more couches on this side of the fireplace too.

John tugged at his collar as the warmth of the fire grew uncomfortable. There were two doors leading from the study. The first one John investigated opened to a hallway leading to a dojo. The hall was lined with armor, swords, strange elvish weapons and all that was needed to maintain them.

The dojo was just an open room, lacking any padding, but it had a wooden floor instead of the polished stone everywhere else. A set of glass doors at the other end of the room opened up to the outside. John moved to a small terrace with a set of stairs on either side going down to a private courtyard, which appeared to be divided in two.

On one side was a garden with a waterfall falling into a pond and benches set amid flowers and trees—clearly a place to relax. The other side was open, and appeared to be an extension of the dojo—a place to exercise near nature.

John wandered back the way he'd come to take the other door in the study. Another hallway—this time filled with shelves and drawers for storage—led to the bedchamber. It was the same size as the dojo, making it the largest bedroom John had ever seen.

The bed was so massive there was a set of steps on one side leading up to it. There was another fireplace, not quite so big but equally warm, on one side of the room. Opposite it, there was a large door. It was currently open, and John glimpsed a bathroom the size of which was a match to this ridiculously large bedroom.

A set of window-doors opposite the bed opened up to a balcony. John wandered to it, finding it open to the cavern. Below him, he could see part of the palace and people wandering about as they explored this new home. Before him, he could see what looked like a market on the cavern wall in the distance. From the size of it, he was sure it would be quite busy once everyone had settled in.

Turning, John saw Nuada in the room. He was studying the bed, a distinct lack of expression on his face.

Squaring his shoulders, John determinedly moved to his new husband. "We should talk."

Nuada crossed his arms, but did not leave, which John took as permission to continue.

For a moment, John was at a loss what to say. If this conversation didn't go well, it didn't bode well for their future.

In the end, John decided Nuada wasn't going to appreciate pussyfooting around, and John said bluntly, "Do you believe what your sister said? That somehow, we're going to end up in love and that our marriage will be more than just a political contract? Because nothing about you so far has given me the sense that you buy into that."

Nuada tilted his head slightly, studying John. "My sister is optimistic. She always has been."

Nodding, John said, "So, what is this marriage then? Your father said that the fancy city disappears if our marriage fails. Do you want that?"

Nuada looked taken aback. "Of course not!"

"Are you sure?" John pressed. "You raised the Golden Army, but you didn't get to use it. If our marriage fails—a marriage I see no evidence you're in favor of—then you get the army back and you can try again."

Nuada's expression turned black. "Do you think me so callous as to wish to rip away this new home from my people?"

He looked very menacing just then, but John did not back down. "I have no idea what you are or are not capable of. I don't know you. Don't get offended because I'm trying to rectify that. What I do know is that you tried to unleash the Golden Army to destroy every human on earth, and I can't believe you're happy to be married to one now. None of that points to someone who is committed to this marriage."

"I vowed in blood," Nuada said, uncrossing his arms and scowling at John as if John had offered a vile insult. "I would not go back on my word."

"That's good to know," John said, meaning it. "But I would appreciate if you would say in so many words that you have no intention of raising the Golden Army again. I would like to know that there isn't some inkling in the back of your mind that might sabotage this new marriage, even if only subconsciously."

Nuada's expression darkened further, and John braced himself. Perhaps he shouldn't push, but he thought it was important to establish some ground rules right out of the gate. He was prepared to deal with the fallout.

Unexpectedly, though, the dark promise in Nuada's expression cleared. Something flickered in his eyes, before he turned his head away.

John watched Nuada walk to the balcony, leaning on the railing. "I will do what is best for my people." His words were murmured, and John moved closer to better hear.

Glancing over his shoulder at John, Nuada said, "You may think what you like, but I tried to unleash the Golden Army for the sake of my people. You don't realize how far we've fallen. How far we've. . ."

Nuada shook his head, abandoning whatever he was going to say. He straightened and turned to John. "I offered my people the solution of the Golden Army, and they rejected it. They prefer this." He flung his arm out towards the cavern. "To hide from the sun rather than fight for a place on the surface." His jaw tightened, and John could see his frustration.

But it drained away quickly, leaving Nuada looking tired. "My people would rather fade then fight. I thought, perhaps, I could rally them, but that is not what they want. I am their servant. I will do as they wish, but I will not love it. No one could ask that of me."

"Okay." John's tone was hesitant. He was touching a nerve here, but Nuada hadn't shut him down so John decided he could keep going. "I think that just illustrates my point. Your sister's Happily Ever After isn't in the cards for us, but a lot of people are depending on us to figure this out. So . . . what do we need to do to satisfy the magic sealed by our vows?"

Nuada turned away, once again leaning on the balcony railing. "I do not know what will be enough."

The way he said it, John wondered if he feared whatever they had to give would fall short. John certainly feared that. He was willing to do whatever was necessary, but there was only so much he could pretend to like a stranger like Nuada.

And much depended on how much Nuada was willing—or even able—to give.

Straightening suddenly, Nuada turned again to look at John. "And you? What would satisfy you?"

His eyes were sharp, and John felt like he was being tested. He considered his answer before saying, "You don't have to like me. I just want to be treated with respect and civility." He paused, and then amended, "And some patience would be appreciated too. I am willing to learn whatever I need to know to make this marriage work, but that will take time."

Nuada opened his mouth, but then seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say. Instead, he just nodded and then gestured with his chin towards the bed.

"It has been a long day. You should sleep."

"And you?" John had very mixed feelings about sharing a bed with an apparent enemy.

"Humans need more sleep than elves," Nuada said, turning once more to look out over the cavern, the conversation clearly over on his end.

John decided that was fine. If Nuada wasn't interested, John wouldn't push.

Moving to one of the wardrobes, John was surprised to see his clothes already neatly put away. He hung his suit coat on a hanger and loosened his tie. He did have a pair of pajamas but he hadn't worn proper nightwear in years.

Glancing at Nuada's broad back, John considered what he wanted to do. He decided that this was his home now, and he was going to sleep like he usually did. With the room as warm as it was, that meant his trusty boxers would be good enough, and Nuada could tell him different if it wasn't.

After attending to his nightly ablutions and making war on the ridiculously big blankets, John settled under a sheet. He looked over to see Nuada exactly where he'd left him.

Quietly, John sighed. He had a feeling his battles were only just beginning.

***

Nuada's keen ears could hear John's breathing even out from across the room. He was a little surprised how quickly John was able to fall asleep in such a strange place, but Nuada was glad he did. It left Nuada alone with his thoughts.

Looking out over the massive cavern, Nuada felt an answering hollowness in his chest. The cavern walls and the great pillars holding up the ceiling were colorful and busy with houses and sculptures, walkways and murals. But the space between was vast—a great dark emptiness that overwhelmed whatever cheer the buildings on the edges tried vainly to impart.

Would his people come to see what he saw? They were engrossed at the moment with the initial joy of having Bethmoora fully realized, but surely they must see that there was still a wrongness here—the same wrongness that had been here when they had first tried this so long ago.

But, maybe it was just Nuada who wasn't seeing things clearly. Everyone—a whole nation of people—saw only hope here. Nuada couldn't blind himself to the reality that he had very personal reasons for being uneasy here.

Some old and some new.

Nuada looked down at his hand, which he slowly moved through the motions of making a fist and then flexing his fingers.

There was no sign of the ritual wound inflicted during his wedding, but he swore he felt a ghost of it in his flesh. He wondered if that was normal or if it had something to do with his husband being a human.

Turning, Nuada's eyes went immediately to the bed on the other side of the room. John appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He slept on his side, the sheet pooled around his waist. Nuada could see the definition of muscle that had been hidden under his suit, the pale smoothness of his skin. John's expression was relaxed, making him look absurdly young to Nuada's ancient elven eyes. Despite his feelings towards humans, Nuada could appreciate their beauty, and John was a particularly good example of that.

It would be easier, Nuada reflected, if John exhibited more of his species' bad qualities. But Nuada had hand-fasted in blood. The innate telepathic ability all elves shared was enhanced by the willing participation in a wedding-joining and the shared open wound.

Nuada had seen all of John. He could see that he was what appeared to be—that his earnestness was not a deception or manipulation. Nuada knew that John was ill-prepared for his new role, knowing almost nothing about what he was actually agreeing to or the basics of elven society. He knew that did not matter to John, who understood that a people needed help and that his own kind were under threat. That was enough to agree to a lifelong commitment like this arranged marriage.

Nuada knew all these things about John. All of it came to him when they had touched hands. He had even heard the foggy god speak to John, when the god had spoken to no one else.

Yet, John was so ignorant. He did not know that the god had died to bring about the restoration of Bethmoora. He had heard nothing from Nuada's side of things.

It wasn't supposed to work this way. Part of the reason for the marriage was the sudden openness between former enemies. There was no hiding when blood was spilled willingly. Any attempt would be noted, and the truth of one participant's desire for peace would be known.

John had no idea of Nuada's true intentions. They were not starting as equals in this relationship.

Was this because John was human? Was the hole in his heart that all humans strove vainly to fill interfering somehow? Or was it because Nuada had kept a wall around his heart? And if so, could he honestly say it was solely because his new husband was human?

Nuada turned back, bracing himself on the railing. A feeling of impending disaster was growing inside him. He thought about what John had said before retiring. This wasn't going to be a traditional marriage, even by the standards of enemy-unions like the one that had united his parents.

The god who had spoken to John must have known that, surely? It had given its life for the sake of hope. It wouldn't do that if it thought there wasn't a real way forward, and it must have known that Nuada could never be truly happy with a human for a spouse.

What did all this mean then?

Nuada looked at the market their window faced, seeing banners unfurling as his people were already getting down to the business of living. He meant what he had said to John; he would do what his people wanted. If they wanted this darkened cave as a home, he would see it done.

But how?

That was a good question. What did the magic need from them? Nuada was sure to slip up. He couldn't pretend to be happy with a human for a spouse. Humans were empty creatures, endlessly greedy to fill up the void inside them. They were incapable of the depth and connection Nuada expected from an elf.

Perhaps, the best thing to do would be to distance himself from John. They would see each other at Court, where formality would bind Nuada's tongue, and then they would both be free to help the subjects of the kingdom in their own way.

Yes, Nuada thought this was best.

He turned, and walked briskly towards the door. But his eyes lingered on his sleeping husband as he passed, and even he couldn't say what he felt in that moment.


	2. Chapter 2

Court was boring and frustrating. Boring because John had no role in it—no one asked his opinion on anything. Frustrating because only about a fifth of what was said was spoken in English. Even then, the problems were not ones he had any experience with, so even if he had been asked, he had nothing to add.

John stood between Nuada and Nuala for hours, watching the King go about the business of establishing this new underground kingdom. It was clear that he knew exactly what he was doing, and needed no help from his children. John had to wonder why they were there.

It wasn't his place to say. Maybe, once he learned more of the ins and outs of the kingdom, he could challenge things, but for now, he knew to be patient. This was an excellent learning opportunity.

Or, it would be, if he could follow more of what was going on.

With that in mind, he stopped Nuala after Court broke up. "Could you spare a few minutes?"

Nuala offered her gentle smile, her eyes following Nuada as he accompanied the King at the King's request. "Of course, John Myers. What did you need?"

John gestured with his chin to the exit, and they fell into step together. "Language lessons." At Nuala's questioning look, he explained, "If I'm going to be here long-term—which I'm sure we're all hoping is the case—then I need to know what everyone's saying. Could you arrange for someone to teach me elvish?"

"Oh, of course!" Nuala offered an embarrassed smile, as if it were her fault this had been overlooked. "I can do that for you. Indeed, I would be happy to teach you, myself."

"Really?" John was dubious. "You don't have to do that."

"No, I want to," Nuala insisted.

"Even if I'm a horrible student?" John pressed.

Nuala's smile turned more genuine. "I can always arrange a tutor if things go badly, but I don't think they will."

John was reminded of Nuada's observation of Nuala's optimism. He hoped she was right, and decided to accept her offer at face value. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

She nodded. "Was there anything else that you needed? I know that everything has changed so rapidly, so suddenly. Even for us, this is a big change. I can only imagine how you feel."

John shrugged awkwardly. "So far, the language is the biggest hurdle for me, but I'll let you know if that changes."

"Please do." John could see Nuala's sincerity, and he did feel better to know he had someone he could appeal to for help.

As they continued to walk, John said, "There was one thing I was curious about. It might be the language barrier, but I thought I saw a pattern to the petitions. A lot of conflict over the best spots."

"Yes, everyone is rushing to claim the most desirable locations," Nuala agreed.

John nodded, since that was what a lot of the petitions had boiled down to. "They kept referencing the Promise of Bethmoora, but I feel like I'm missing something. What exactly is the Promise of Bethmoora? Why all the confusion and contradiction in the petitions?"

His question caused Nuala to frown. "Hasn't my brother explained it to you?"

John snorted. "Your brother has been avoiding me. I've barely said two words to him since the wedding."

He regretted his flippant remark when he saw how troubled Nuala's expression became. It was true, though. John could see Nuada avoiding him, and John was letting him do it. For now, at least. After he had some language lessons and a better grasp on elvish customs, he would reassess their situation. He wasn't really in any hurry to confront his husband again.

Before he could say anything, Nuala reached out to gently touch his arm. "Perhaps it would be best if you sat midday meal with me. There is much you should know."

That wasn't what John was expecting, but he saw no reason to turn her down. She directed him to her own rooms, which had a parlor similar to the one Nuada and John shared. A servant had a repast set up for her, and it only took a quiet word to have another place set and then privacy.

"You must understand some history," Nuala began, as soon as they were alone. "It concerns Aiglin, the Father Tree. Long ago, we all lived under his sheltering branches in peace. You have never known the like of Aiglin, mighty among all living things. If he still stood today, he would tower over the tallest building your people have ever built. His trunk was as wide as a human city. There was power and strength in Aiglin that has never been since his loss."

"What happened to it?" John asked.

"Well, that is a bit of a mystery," Nuala replied. "What you must understand is that Aiglin was revered by everyone—even early humans—and the elves had appointed ourselves as his caretaker and defender."

John had a sinking feeling. "Did humans attack it?"

He was relieved when Nuala shook her head. "No, but it was partly in fear of humans doing something of that nature that led to the loss of the Father Tree. All magical beings bowed before the elves and accepted their right to rule, but humans contested our self-appointed claim to Aiglin. There were many arguments about it."

"Is that what started the original war between humans and magical beings?" John asked.

Again, Nuala shook her head. "I'm sure the conflict over Aiglin was one of many things that eventually led to the war. But, you must understand, all that I am describing was very long ago. Indeed, much of it was even before my time."

That did take John by surprise. He had no idea how old elves were, but the history of the Golden Crown had come up when he'd been briefed on Nuada's attack of the auction house. He knew that it could be traced back for centuries, and he knew that Nuada and Nuala had been alive when the piece of the Crown had come to humans. It was hard for John to have a sense of scale for just how long they had been around.

Another reason he was going to have a hard time connecting with Nuada.

John pushed that thought aside, and said, "So, humans wanted more access to the tree? Or more say in who got to decide who had access?"

"Something like that. But it wasn't just humans. That is a point that some of my people forget. They are only too keen to blame humans, saying that humans desired the power of the tree, and all that came after that was their doing. That is not the impression I get from my father and others who were there. It is not my recollection from my earliest years either."

"But it's something Nuada feels?" John guessed.

Nuala considered that for a moment. "I think, at times, it is a convenient lie from which he can draw purpose, but I think it is not a lie he can hold onto. There is more to the story, and he is all too aware of it."

Something sad flickered over her face, but whatever passed her thoughts remained unsaid. Instead, she returned to her explanation of the past. "Some think that humans instigated a rift among the elves, but that is not so. There has always been a plurality of opinions among my people. We wield much power, but who should be the ultimate authority was not ordained from the beginning."

"Does this have something to do with your parents?" John had wondered about that. As far as he could see, elves and magical beings seemed very unified. He had been surprised to learn they had a ritual to unite enemies in marriage, and he'd been very surprised when he'd learned the King and Queen had married under the ritual.

A part of him wondered if the ritual was usually used for something minor—business rivals or Romeo-and-Juliet-style family hatred—but he remembered the words about spilling blood that did give him pause considering this.

Nodding, Nuala said, "There were many factions of elves, but there were two main camps that concern this conversation. I would have you keep in mind that I am vastly simplifying the situation for convenience here, but the basic position of the different views boiled down to two sides: those who felt that Aiglin belonged to elves and those who believed that no one group had the right to Aiglin—that it was blasphemy and arrogance of the highest order to claim his power for our own."

John mulled that over as Nuala sipped her soup. "I can see how humans would be a convenient scapegoat for that. The people in the second camp, they kind of had to side with humans then, right?"

"That was the way those who claimed Aiglin for elves framed the debate, certainly. If you ask someone on the side of Aiglin belonging to all, they often take offense to the suggestion they are only fighting for humans."

John sensed this was a complicated issue—and at another time he would be only too happy to learn all about it—but he was too worried about his own issue right now to let himself be distracted. "This is all very fascinating, but I don't understand what this has to do with Bethmoora."

Inclining her head in acknowledgment of his concerns, Nuala said, "What you need to know is that my mother sided with those who felt Aiglin belonged to all, and my father did not. He would say that he did not think Aiglin _belonged_ to the elves, but he did think elves were the only ones capable of protecting Aiglin—that only elves could truly appreciate the power Aiglin represented and wield it wisely."

"Did it come to blows?" John asked.

Nuala looked sad. "It is not a part of our history of which we are proud. My mother was a General. She and my father faced each other on the battlefield several times. They were bitter rivals. Many were hurt but our type of warfare and our own resilience did not lead to many outright deaths. At least, not until the final battle. That battle is spoken of in hushed tones, if it is spoken of at all. After that, the marriage took place."

"I find it hard to wrap my head around," John said. "It's one thing for someone like me and Nuada—I don't have any negative feelings about him—but to see people you care about cut down by the man you end up marrying?" John shook his head.

"I admit I share your incredulity. My mother once told me that passion is a potent emotion, and if there is a will for change, it can be redirected. It is not easy, but it can be done."

Which wasn't helpful for John. He did not hate Nuada, and if Nuada hated humanity, the emotion didn't appear to have control over him.

"My parent's marriage brought peace, but it did not settle the argument. It simmered in the background. When humans began to consolidate their own power and to again press their desire for more access to Aiglin, the issue came roaring back to life."

That sad look returned to Nuala's expression, and John knew this wasn't going to have a happy ending.

"I was very young when the situation once again came to a head. I did not understand what was happening. I did not know that something momentous was on the horizon, so I did not pay it much attention. I cannot say exactly what happened. I know there were powerful clerics on both sides of the issue, and my parents were trying to find peace. Something happened. Something . . ."

She frowned. "My father does not speak of it. No one does. I do not know if it is guilt or fear. I have wished many times that I had paid more attention for it seems that is the only cure to my ignorance. I do not know what the elves were doing, but I do know that one day Aiglin was there and the next he was not."

"A tree the size of a city disappeared, and no one noticed?" John was surprised.

"He was not wholly gone. There was a massive stump where he had once stood. It was sliced clean, as if someone had taken an axe to him and felled him in one decisive strike. Some tried to blame humans, suggesting they had destroyed the tree, but it was so patently impossible. The rest of the tree had vanished, and there was no way humans could get close enough to the tree without someone seeing them. More than that, there was also the prophecy."

"Prophecy?" John asked.

"The Promise of Bethmoora," Nuala said. "When all magical beings assembled before the corpse of Aiglin, a voice was heard in all of our heads. It spoke of a sanctuary for magical beings—Aiglin returned. At least, that's what I heard. But that's the thing with prophecy. Everyone heard something but they took their own meaning from what they heard. That is why you see such confusion among the petitioners, and there will be more quarrels as the true Promise of Bethmoora unfolds. Some people's interpretations will be challenged and may end up being wrong. Our settlement here will, unfortunately, not be smooth."

"Is that why Nuada is so withdrawn?" John asked. "Do you know what he took from the prophecy?"

"He took what I took. Our minds were one, especially when we were young. We heard the prophecy through each other's eyes, and I feel we have more clarity than others do because of that." Her eyes took on a far-off look. "No, his reticence is something else entirely."

John waited. After a few moments, Nuala seemed to pull herself together. She noted him waiting, and offered a sad smile.

"Our people were deeply shaken by the loss of Aiglin. There was a real threat that we would once again go to war with each other. Indeed, the eventual war with humans has some roots in what happened to Aiglin. As King and Queen, it was up to my parents to find a path forward. The prophecy indicated where Bethmoora was located: the Nightlands."

"Nightlands?" That sounded dramatic.

Nuala nodded. "That is where we are now, but it was much different in Aiglin's time. The Nightlands were considered cursed. One of the reasons our people were so shaken and confused was that we thought Aiglin had gone to the Nightlands, and that made no sense at all. Nothing could live in the Shadows of that perpetual Night. It seemed hopeless."

Oddly, Nuala offered John a small smile. "Not to my mother, though. Her faith was unshakable. She learned Aiglin was here, and she would find him. She would lead our people to the promised sanctuary." The smile faded away. "In that, she succeeded . . . at the cost of her life."

"I'm sorry," John said softly.

Shaking her head, Nuala said, "Our mother's ghost haunts us here. We dwelled here for a time before the plague of silence and death unleashed by the Golden Army forced us away. But my brother has never called Bethmoora home, not until now. Nuada has mixed feelings about your marriage, I'm sure, but I do not know how much he has even considered it at this point. Frankly, I think it would do him some good to focus on you. Brooding about our mother's loss does no good."

John had no idea how to respond to that. With this new information, he wondered if he should have let Nuada avoid him as he had.

On further reflection, though, he decided he didn't really want to poke Nuada when he was grieving. Maybe once they knew each other better, he could offer support about Nuada's mother, but that wasn't the place to start.

"Thank you for telling me all of this, Nuala," John said, meaning it sincerely.

"I hope this knowledge guides your path," she replied.

"I'm sure it will. This and language lessons should start me on a good footing."

Nuala smiled, looking relieved to turn to a new subject. "Yes, and we can start that right now."

However, at that moment there was a loud knock on the door—more of a bang really. Startled, Nuala called whoever it was to enter. They were both surprised when Nuada appeared, two Butcher Guards on either side of him.

"Forgive the intrusion, your Highness." The Butcher Guard's voice was the creepiest thing John had ever heard, causing him to hunch away instinctively. "The prince is to join you, by the King's command."

Nuada was none-to-gently pushed into the room. He turned on his heel, looking pissed.

"Brother, what has happened?" Nuala said, perhaps to forestall a fight. The Guards bowed and shut the door behind them.

For a moment, it looked like Nuada was going to tear after the Guards. But he composed himself, and turned back to them. John could see the tightness of his jaw; he might have control of himself but he was still boiling mad.

Tightly, he said, "Father has flexed his authority. Completely unnecessarily, I might add."

Nuala shared a glance with John, and he could tell she was just as confused as he was. "Brother?"

"The King has asserted that I have been inattentive to my husband, and he felt the need to insert himself into the situation." Nuada flung his arm out so his sister could see a mark upon his skin, his expression black with anger.

The mark was a symbol of some sort. It was meaningless to John, but Nuala's eyes widened when she saw it. Her eyes darted to John. Seeing it, Nuada said, "Don't bother. He doesn't have one. The King only saw it fitting to bestow this on me."

"What is it?" John asked.

Crossing his arms, Nuada looked at Nuala, obviously indicating she could answer but he wasn't going to.

Nuala looked uncomfortable. "It is a linking symbol." Nuada made a disbelieving noise, clearly unimpressed by her description, but he didn't bother helping her. "The wearer of such a mark is bound to something."

"To John, of course," Nuada said.

John was confused. "Aren't we already bound? We're married."

Nuala shook her head. "Not like that. Nuada is now bound to you. If he strays too far away, he will be compelled to return to you."

"It means I cannot leave your side," Nuada said angrily.

"Does the King really think that will be helpful?" John asked. He couldn't say he was too surprised that the King had noted Nuada had been avoiding him. A stern talking-to might have been in order, but using a magical compelling spell seemed a bit extreme.

"The King has not made the mark permanent," Nuada said, as if quoting the King's words, "but he is ready to offer the full weight of the throne in support of our marriage."

Seeing how angry Nuada was, John wished the King had stayed out of it. "Perhaps if I talk to the King, I can let him know that his help is appreciated but ill-advised at present. If the mark's not meant to be permanent, we can fix this."

"I doubt he would be in the mood to have his will questioned at present," Nuala offered hesitantly. John could believe it. He wasn't sure what had precipitated this turn of events. As far as John could tell, the King was usually calm and level-headed. But, John also knew that no one could get under your skin like family.

"Why don't you join us for lunch?" John offered. "Let your dad cool down a bit."

"Yes, Brother," Nuala quickly jumped in. "Join us. John has asked for lessons to learn our language. I am sure you can help with that."

Nuada looked surprised at this news, but then he scoffed. "I have no patience to hear a human butcher our tongue."

Nuala looked chagrined but sympathetic. John wasn't sure how to take that, but he couldn't say he was interested in struggling through a new language with Nuada.

But he considered the idea of Nuada as a teacher. Nuala's revelation about the Queen, and the King's actions in tying them together even tighter made John reevaluate his arm's-length approach to his marriage. The people of Bethmoora needed this marriage to work; John and Nuada weren't going to get anywhere without interacting.

"Maybe there's something else you could teach me instead," he said.

Nuada looked at him curiously, his body radiating skepticism. Before he could voice opposition, John continued, "All the lords wear swords. I assume they can use them? Challenging each other in combat is a thing you guys do, right? I should know how to defend myself at least."

"You want me to teach you swordplay?" Nuada looked incredulous.

Feeling his face heat up, John nevertheless didn't back down. "Sure, why not?"

"You will never be the equal to an elven lord," Nuada said.

"I doubt anyone would expect me to be, and that's not what I'm asking for. I just think it would be beneficial to know the basics so I don't embarrass you if a fight breaks out." At Nuada's look, John rolled his eyes and amended, "Embarrass you any more than usual, then."

Nuada still didn't look convinced. "I don't think you appreciate the level of talent a lord must aspire to if he has the audacity to wear a sword. You could learn nothing in a fight from me. It would be over before it started."

"If we were actually fighting, sure, but you'd be teaching me." John decided on a different tactic to get Nuada to capitulate. "Or, are you not able to do that? Is teaching too hard for you?"

Nuada's eyes flashed. "I am the best fighter in the kingdom."

"Then I'm sure you'll be a great teacher," John said coolly.

"I do think John would benefit from knowing basic defense," Nuala said quietly, looking wary to interject. "At some point, it will be odd if he does not wear a sword. He is Prince Consort, after all."

Nuada looked unhappy, but all he said was, "You may be right. I will consider it."

"Excellent! Now, won't you join us for our repast?" Nuala said.

Once again, Nuada's impatient anger returned. "I have no time for this. If I am to remain stuck at John's side, I must send a message to Sir Elcmar that I will not be coming as he expects."

"Why not?" John said, standing up. "If you have someplace to be, I can tag along." He turned to Nuala. "You will excuse me, won't you?"

"Of course. We can start language lessons once you and Nuada have determined how best to accommodate Nuada's new mark."

Nuada hesitated, but apparently whatever business he had was pressing enough that he gave in. Bowing to his sister, he said, "Forgive me for taking your guest away."

"Think nothing of it," she said politely.

John practically had to jog to keep up with Nuada as he strode through the palace towards the stables. "Where are we going?"

"Sir Elcmar has taken charge of a small town at the edge of the kingdom. If we take a dragon, we should be there shortly."

"Dragon?" John stopped in surprise, but then had to sprint to catch back up to Nuada.

John's unasked question was answered shortly. Two winged lizard-creatures the size of horses were hitched up to a royal cart. "Get in," Nuada commanded, hopping into the carriage.

Still staring at the dragons, John distractedly followed. No sooner had his butt hit the seat than the dragons flapped their wings in unison and they were off in a burst of speed. John was pushed back into the bench.

"So, what do you need to see Sir Elcmar about?" John asked once he'd settled into his seat.

Nuada crossed his arms and didn't respond.

"Okay. Personal business. I can respect that." John tried again. "How far away can I go before the mark will compel me to return?"

"The mark will have no effect on you," Nuada said, his posture relaxing a fraction. He looked frustrated, but John didn't think it was with him. If he had been branded with a mark compelling him to be near someone he hated, he wouldn't be happy either.

"So, it affects you. Then how far can I go before _you_ are compelled to return to me?" John asked.

"It doesn't work that way," Nuada said quietly. "You can go as far as you like. It is only when _I_ try to leave you that the compelling spell would activate. How far that would be has more to do with intent than distance."

"Interesting." John pondered that. "So, if you went somewhere but had every intention of returning to me, then you could go however far away you needed to."

Nuada looked uncomfortable, but he did answer, "An intention to return means nothing. It is more . . . If I left your side but did not desire to leave you—if I thought only of you every moment I was gone and desired only to return to you—then I could go as far away as I needed to."

"Oh." John had no idea how to respond to that.

The dragons flew so fast that the city around them was a blur. John peeked over the edge, but he couldn't see the bottom of the cavern. He focused on what he could see of the city. The cavern walls and islands of stone were crowded with structures. John wondered if there were enough magical beings to fill them all.

As they made their way through the cavern, it looked less like a city and more like small towns of buildings. The towns sprung up further and further from each other. As they flew from the palace—the heart of Elfland—the waiting buildings were empty.

They finally came to a town hanging low from the cavern ceiling, half over the bottomless cavern floor and half over a cliff that fell sharply into the void. John noted a giant stone circle on the rocky floor that turned into the cliff.

"What is that?" he asked. Nuada glanced down, but did not answer.

Instead, he said, "This town marks the border of Bethmoora. Beyond it there is nothing. Sir Elcmar's house is near the market here."

The dragons touched down on the dock at the edge of town. Nuada waited for John to disembark, but John could see he was anxious to get going. He directed John through a winding main street. It wasn't the crowded business center near the palace, but there were a good handful of families of a variety of species here. They looked curiously at John, but none greeted him.

Nuada stopped abruptly at a door. "This is Sir Elcmar's house." He made no move to allow John to enter.

"Ah. I won't keep you." John looked around at the townspeople who refused to meet his eye. "I'll just poke around the town while you're meeting with your friend."

Nuada hesitated, but then nodded. "I will find you as soon as I am done." He offered a slight bow, and then dashed up the stairs into the house, closing the door quickly so John could not see what was inside.

For a moment, John was stymied on what to do. He didn't think he would get anywhere with the townspeople, and he feared that they might not speak his language. He felt that he was making them uncomfortable.

Wandering away from the market, John contemplated what to do with himself. As he did, he walked over a bridge overlooking the giant circle. Curious, he decided to investigate more closely.

It didn't take him long to find a sophisticated skyway system of ropes that took fancy buckets in different directions. He rode one down to the ground, almost to the edge of the circle.

When he did, several things became clear. The first was that the size of the circle was grossly misleading from his vantage point in the air. From the ground, the circle appeared to be a gently curving wall of bricks about chest-high. In the center of the circle was dirt, rather than stone. The bucket had dropped him off on one side of the giant circle, and he wandered along its length.

He glanced up at the ceiling. He could not see it from here, but he could see the cavern ceiling they had flown under. The ceiling above the circle must be much higher than out in the rest of the cavern. John also noted that walls of the cavern were much closer together and getting closer still as they led to a back wall. There was something strange about it, so John walked that way.

It took him a long time, and he wondered a few times if he shouldn't turn back. Surely, Nuada's business wouldn't take this long, would it?

But something kept driving him. He felt an odd determination to keep going, as if he expected to find something.

When he finally reached the part of the circle nearest the back wall, he discovered that there was no wall at all—not of rock anyway. It looked more like a wall of shadow. Between the curving stone wall behind him and the shadow wall before him, there was another small circle. This one was flush with the ground but made of white stone where everything else was gray. Right in the middle was what looked like a stone lantern.

Curious, John wandered towards it. Just as he was about to grab it, a voice yelled, "Don't touch that!"

John looked up to see the dragon-cart fly low enough that Nuada was able to jump out of it. He landed a few feet from John, his expression hard. John had put his hands up in a show of compliance, and stepped away from the stone lantern, but Nuada still grabbed his arm and pulled him away even further.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Unapologetically, John said, "I was curious. What is this place?"

Still tugging at John, Nuada led him towards where the dragons had set the cart down on the ground. "We are leaving."

"Does that really work?" John asked, keeping his tone idle so as not to be drawn into a fight. It earned him a curious look, at least. "You have a human for a husband. Do you think dragging me away like a caveman without telling me why you're all worked up is going to do anything but make me _more_ curious?"

Nuada stopped and looked at him. After a moment, he sighed and let John go. "Follow me."

Intrigued, John followed Nuada as he walked away from the stone lantern and towards the wall of shadow. As they got closer, John could see there was something funny about the shadow but he couldn't name what it was.

Nuada stopped a few meters away. He withdrew something from his belt, and showed it to John. It appeared to be a golden egg, about the size of Nuada's hand. Unexpectedly, Nuada threw the egg as hard as he could towards the shadow.

Instead of sailing straight through as John expected for a wall of shadow, the egg instead bounced off and came right back at them. Nuada caught it before it could nail John in the head.

"This is the Nightland," Nuada said.

"But Nuala said your mother . . ." John trailed off, wondering at the last moment if it was a good idea to bring up Nuada's mom.

Nuada's expression could be made of stone. He turned slightly so he could point at the lantern. "That is the Queen's Lantern. When my mother did not return, my father sent a company to discover what had happened. We found that the wall of Shadow that defined the Nightlands had been pushed back and my mother's lantern was right here."

"We?" John repeated. "You were there?"

Nuada's jaw clenched, his stony expression growing even more remote. That was all the answer John needed.

"Okay, then." John walked over to the dragons. "Did you finish your business? I didn't call you away by going too far, did I?"

Nuada was frowning, but he slowly followed John. "No. The mark lets me know where you are, but it doesn't matter what you do. I am bound by my own actions and thoughts."

"That gives you a lot of control, actually." John stopped near the dragons, wanting to reach out to touch one like he would a horse, but not sure if that was a good idea.

"Provided I agree with the underlying compulsion," Nuada said, dryly.

"Obviously, it would be better if it weren't there at all, but considering what I thought when your sister first mentioned it, well, it could be much worse." John glanced at Nuada when he stopped beside him. "So, can the dragons understand us or. . ."

Nuada glanced at him for a moment, and then once again withdrew something from a pouch on his belt. "Here. Give one of these to each of them."

John saw that he'd been given what looked like golden coins. As soon as he had them, it was clear he had the dragons' interest. Carefully, he extended his hands out. Long tongues flicked out, grabbing the coins and snapping them back into their mouths.

John thought the dragons looked pleased, and he risked reaching out to stroke the head of one dragon and pat the neck of the other. The dragons reacted well, leaning into the contact and head-butting for a firmer touch.

John smiled at Nuada, pleased with himself and not at all concerned if that made him look dumb. He was touching a dragon. That was cool.

Nuada also reached out to stroke the nearest dragon's wing. His stony posture had finally relaxed. "We should go."

Nodding, John gave a last pat to each dragon and followed Nuada into the cart. With a signal from Nuada, the dragons took off. John looked over the side of the cart as the circle of stone grew smaller as they rose quickly into the air.

A strange feeling came over John, as if leaving was the last thing he should be doing. Settling back into his seat, John had no idea what to make of that.

***

Two days later, Nuada was in the study when John approached him, sheathed sword in his hand.

"I'm ready for a lesson."

Taking in John's posture and expression, Nuada knew his husband was indeed ready for a fight, and not just a physical one. For whatever reason, John had decided this was a good idea and he was ready to argue Nuada into it.

Nuada considered for a moment refusing him, but he discarded the idea almost immediately. From the touch they had shared on their wedding day, Nuada knew John could be very stubborn if he thought the outcome was worthwhile. Clearly, he thought that now.

There was also the fact that Nuada had nothing else to do, not with the mark his father had bestowed upon him. They had not had an opportunity to approach the King, and Nuada did not think John would succeed on the front anyway.

"Very well." His agreement clearly surprised John, but John simply nodded and led Nuada towards the dojo.

"So, how do you want to start?" John asked, gesturing with the sword.

"First, we're not going to start with that," Nuada said sharply, taking the sword from John's hand. "You'd only hurt yourself, and I doubt it's even an appropriate sword for your reach."

Nuada walked back to the hallway to put away the sword. Quickly rummaging through the drawers produced two wooden practice swords. He tossed one at John, who caught it awkwardly. "We'll start with these."

Twirling the wooden sword in his hand, Nuada felt the weight of it, the resistance of the air along its blunt blade. Without thought, he knew exactly how to accommodate for these deficiencies. It wouldn't be as graceful as a fight with a proper sword, but Nuada was confident he could still best an opponent with it.

"Take up a defensive stance."

"Are you going to teach me what that is?" John said, sounding more amused than put-out.

Nuada thought back to his own training so long ago—the rigorous attention to forms and endless practicing. But he had been trained as a prince, son of Balor and Boann, the greatest warriors the elves had ever known. To Nuada's mind, John was merely exercising curiosity. There was no need to start with the basics. Nuada would show him a basic defense and drill into his head that he was not the equal of any elven warrior. The sooner John learned to run away, the better.

"I want to see what you know," said Nuada, "what's instinctive to you. Come at me however you feel comfortable."

"That's a terrible way to teach," John said, but he didn't seem troubled by the fact. He took a moment to consider how he wanted to proceed before he shrugged and lunged at Nuada.

It was a slow, clumsy attack to Nuada's mind, and it was no effort at all to dodge it. John tried again, and the result was the same. Again and again, he tried to come at Nuada from different angles, but Nuada always slipped away with the slightest effort.

"What am I supposed to be learning from this?" John asked as he kept trying to hack away at Nuada.

Nuada said, "You must come up with a way to engage me."

"Are you going to give any help with that?" John asked, clearly knowing the answer was no.

"You will not learn anything if a solution is handed to you."

"I disagree." John kept his head in a situation Nuada would have found very frustrating. It was clear Nuada was toying with John, but John still tried his attacks without any sign of losing patience. Nuada grudgingly respected that. "I can't see myself as an aggressor in a swordfight. I know my limitations. I doubt I would ever be truly comfortable in this kind of fight, and I certainly wouldn't seek it out. So, suggesting that I will need to force an engagement feels like a waste of time—especially since there's no way I'm going to push you to engage with me. You're going to have to want to."

His words were calm and measured, but for a strange reason, Nuada felt stung. On the next lunge, he brought up his sword to block. John put his full weight behind the strike, but it was still nothing for Nuada to hold the block for a moment. He then used his grounded position to push back, which sent John flying back and landing heavily on his butt.

Climbing to his feet, John dusted himself off one-handed and said, "That's more like it. Now what?"

Nuada was momentarily surprised by his husband's reaction. Shrugging it off, he said, "I'm still standing. Find a way to put me on the floor . . . if you can."

John grinned, clearly liking the challenge. He lunged again, and this time Nuada met him with a block.

For more than an hour, they continued in this vein. John would attack. Nuada would either sidestep or block, always pushing John away. Sometimes John kept on his feet, but more often he landed hard on the ground.

Nuada changed it up on occasion to keep the fight interesting on his end, changing a sidestep at the last possible second to a quick jab or push or swipe with the blade. Nuada was a little surprised how long John could keep it up. He had yet to land a single blow on Nuada, but that didn't keep him from trying.

It became clear to Nuada that he wasn't going to deter John by tiring him out or frustrating him. Rather, it seemed the longer this went on the more determined John was to keep going. John did not have any chance of winning, so Nuada was at a loss what he hoped to achieve.

Nuada finally called a halt to their match when he noticed John's fatigue was resulting in worse outcomes and he realized John wasn't going to call the match himself. "I think that's enough for today."

"Had enough?" John said, smiling. He wiped his brow, hair plastered to his forehead from perspiration and a flush from exertion staining his skin. He was breathing hard while Nuada wasn't even sweating; it was clear he knew who had won today's fight, but he didn't seem to care. Nuada didn't know why he found that a bit charming. "Sure, we can stop for today."

"For today? You want to do this again?" Nuada couldn't hide his surprise.

"Of course!" John looked enthusiastic, even as his arm drooped with the effort of holding the training sword for even a minute longer. "You can't tell me I actually learned anything today. Well, apart from the fact that you are a fantastically talented fighter, but I already knew that. I still don't know how to defend myself from an attack, and I think that will be valuable to know."

Nuada understood at that moment that whether he did it or not, somehow John would learn how to defend himself with a sword. John might not be serious about Nuada's teaching, but he was serious about learning.

Nuada wasn't sure what to think of that.

Handing the wooden sword to Nuada, John looked awkward. "So, I worked up an appetite. Do you want to share dinner or . . .?"

Nuada had noted that John had made more effort to invite him to share time together since the King had marked Nuada.

Shaking his head, Nuada said politely, "Thank you, but I am not hungry yet."

"Sure." John shrugged as if it didn't matter to him. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Nuada watched him leave, feeling bad. He wasn't sure if John felt rejected or didn't expect anything from him, but Nuada thought he would be disappointed if he were in John's shoes.

Alone now, Nuada wandered out to the private garden and stood before the waterfall feeding into the small pond. With the branches of two large night-trees intertwining overhead, Nuada could imagine for a moment that he was truly outside and not in a giant hole in the ground.

For a moment, Nuada closed his eyes and thought of nothing. Controlling his pulse, he willed his body to be calm. He had found that relaxing his body was a good way to encourage his mind to calm as well.

Unsurprisingly, he was not successful tonight. His thoughts strayed to John, who was likely bathing away the exertion of the fight before settling into a meal. John was always so put-together. If he had his druthers, he would not spend too long sweaty and unkempt.

Even if the flush had looked lovely on him.

Nuada should make more of an effort, he knew. He didn't need his father's mark to remind him of that.

Glancing at it, he thought the King had restrained himself. King Balor knew that Nuada had the discipline to overcome a compulsion if he really needed to, at least for a short while. No, this was the King placing a constant reminder on Nuada that he should be more worried about his marriage than anything else right now.

Nuada knew his father was right. He couldn't avoid John forever, and it wasn't right to leave him alone in this alien place. Just in the last two days, Nuada had realized how little there was for John to do. Now that he was tied to John, Nuada was climbing the walls with boredom.

But maybe John was okay with it. Nuada had not asked him. He should. He should do a lot of things.

Sighing, Nuada settled on a bench. Today's match might have been about teaching John how to defend himself, or perhaps just an excuse for John to expend some energy, or maybe it was John's way of reaching out, trying to find some way under Nuada's armor to begin building a relationship they _had_ to make.

Perhaps it was all of those things. Nuada had already refused dinner tonight, and his pride would not allow him to go back on that decision, but he decided he could meet John halfway. Tomorrow, he would suggest they go out together so John could see more of the kingdom.

Satisfied, Nuada took his spear from his belt, activated it to full size, and decided to spend time going through some real forms.

***

Having decided on a course of action, Nuada was not one to wait. It was early morning when he slipped into their shared bedroom. He saw that John was still asleep, but he had noted his husband was an early riser. He anticipated John would wake shortly so Nuada walked to the balcony and watched the far market while he waited.

It wasn't long before he heard John's breathing change and then the rustle of sheets as John sat up. Nuada did not turn to look, letting John wake up in his own time.

"Hey," John said when he spotted Nuada, sounding sleepy. "Something wrong?"

"No, nothing is wrong. The Guards practice early in the morning. I thought, given that you want to learn more about defense, that you would appreciate seeing them in action."

"That sounds good. Let me get dressed."

Nodding, Nuada finally turned and froze when he finally had a good look at John. As usual, John had slept only in boxers, and every inch of exposed skin Nuada could see was covered with bruises.

Not seeing Nuada's horrified look, John stretched and then winced as the action pulled painfully on one of the injuries Nuada could see.

Standing up, John said, "I should only be a moment."

"Is that . . . is that because of our sparring yesterday?" Nuada asked.

Finally cluing in on Nuada's interest, John glanced at himself as if just now noticing the bruises. He looked a little sheepish but also amused. "Yeah, I'll be feeling this all day. Good job."

Nuada almost choked. " _Good job_? You think I set out to do this to you?"

Walking over to the dresser, John frowned. "I think you set out to win the fight, and I guess to teach me to respect your abilities. I knew going in that you weren't going to go easy on me; I didn't expect you to. Besides, if you're going to be serious about learning to fight, then you're going to get banged up along the way. That's how it is."

John shrugged, and turned to pick a shirt.

While Nuada was not unfamiliar with the pain of training, he had _not_ set out to injure John. Certainly not the array of bruises he could see covering John's back, chest, legs and arms. There was one over his kidney that had likely hurt tremendously, and Nuada had no recollection of when that strike had occurred.

"You didn't say anything about being hurt," Nuada said, since that was what alarmed him most. It was one thing to take a hit. It was another to keep it secret.

John looked confused. "It's nothing serious. I'm sure if you weren't holding back, I would have something to really complain about."

Grabbing his clothes, John slipped into the bathroom.

Nuada clasped his hands behind his back and walked back to the window, feeling bothered. Had he been holding back? John was not his equal in a fight; he had expressly asked to learn. Nuada had not treated it like a real fight, but he had not taken safeguards either. Perhaps he should have called the fight sooner? Should John have said something earlier or was it on Nuada as a teacher to say anything?

Teacher? Nuada scoffed to himself. He hadn't done anything to truly teach John. What had he been doing? Had he taken the opportunity to let out a little frustration at being tied to a human? Had John let him do that?

The whole thing disturbed him.

John returned and said, "Okay, I'm ready."

Nuada gestured for John to precede him into the adjoining hallway. Hesitating, he said, "I've been thinking. Perhaps it would be best to have one of the Guards teach you self-defense."

Startled, John stopped and turned to look at Nuada. "What? Why?" He frowned at Nuada. "Is this because of the bruises? Do you think I won't get banged up by the guards?"

"I'm not a teacher-" Nuada began.

John cut him off. "Then this is a great time to learn. Teaching is the best way to truly master an art, and I'm not a critical student. I see no reason why you _shouldn't_ teach me."

There was a ring of challenge in his tone, as if he smelled bullshit in Nuada's defense and he was having none of it.

Nuada scowled, never liking being challenged. "Regardless of what _you_ think, it _is_ better for you to have an experienced tutor. We can arrange that at the Guard today."

John looked ready to snap a response right back at Nuada, but then thought better about it. He peered closely at Nuada and then said, "Well, there's only one way to solve this."

Unexpectedly, he grabbed Nuada's hand and pulled him along. Nuada had the strength to resist him—and normally he would have done exactly that—but they were now hand-to-hand, and Nuada was flooded with John's feelings through the contact.

Nuada didn't think he'd ever felt such rock-solid determination before. Part of him knew that John had no way of physically forcing the issue, but feeling his determination, Nuada was sure he would find a way.

He let John pull him along, back to the dojo, where John let go to grab the wooden swords. "Okay, the winner gets his way," John said, tossing one of the swords at Nuada.

"You can't be serious."

"Why not? I doubt us arguing it out will get us anywhere." John set his sword down to peel off his shirt, likely so it would not get ruined as it was one of his nicer ones.

Nuada hesitated in answering as he once again had the full measure of John's hurts before his eyes. Finding his tongue with difficulty, he said, "Well, for one thing, if you are able to defeat me, then you don't need a teacher."

Picking up his sword, John replied, "Or maybe it just means more to me than it does to you. Only one way to tell."

There was something about the way he said it that gave Nuada pause—as if he had a plan. He wished he'd bothered to read more of John when they were holding hands so he knew what his husband was thinking.

It didn't matter. Nuada would easily beat him and then they would move on from this.

"Are you going to engage this time or keep dodging around?" John asked.

"I will win this fight," Nuada said.

"Only if you actually fight." Even as he spoke, John lunged. Nuada sidestepped. He turned into the motion, and it would be the easiest thing to hit down with his sword, but the sight of John's bruises made him hesitate. John slipped past unaccosted.

Immediately, John turned and attacked again. Nuada dodged.

They were taking slightly different roles today. John was still the aggressor and Nuada was still mostly dodging away, but John was quicker between attacks while Nuada was more in his own head, trying to figure out what he wanted to do to end this.

The fight was short. John struck a half dozen times before he sprung his surprise. He bore down with his sword, and Nuada moved to block him. But John let go of the sword at the last moment, and Nuada was committed to the block, overbalancing. John was ready for it, slipping around Nuada to get him into a standard FBI hold. John hooked a foot around Nuada's ankle and leaned his weight into him, forcing Nuada down.

They ended up on the floor with Nuada pinned under John.

John smiled. "I win." Somehow, he managed to say it without sounding smug.

Nuada hated to lose. "This doesn't prove anything."

"I disagree. It proves that I still can't win with a sword but I'm not defenseless. I still need someone to teach me, but I don't need to be treated with kid-gloves. You were holding back. That's why you lost. We both know it."

His tone was serious. Leaning over Nuada, hands holding Nuada's wrists, John's eyes were closer than Nuada had ever seen them. He found himself unable to look away. He was too aware of the weight of John on top of him—of the alluring warmth he radiated—and Nuada was surprised how much he liked it.

Nuada felt like he'd lost more than just the fight, and somehow that wasn't necessarily bad. It was an unsettling feeling.

"You don't realize how badly this could go for you," Nuada said in a low voice.

John raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You don't think I know you can wipe the floor with me? Trust me, I know. I have enough training to know you were toying with me yesterday. I don't have any intention or inclination to become a legitimate challenge to you. I'm not going to be a world-class swordsman no matter how much I try."

John let go of Nuada and sat back. "But I don't like feeling vulnerable, especially when there's something I can do to fix that. There are swords everywhere here. I was trained to take advantage of whatever weapon I can get a hold of. Chances are good that if something happens, I'll have access to a sword. I need to do better than swing it around like a club."

"I don't disagree with any of that," Nuada said, slowly sitting up as John scooted back. "But _I_ shouldn't be the one to teach you."

"No, it has to be you. You're my husband. You're the only one with the incentive to teach me so I truly _learn_. And, you can't say you'd be happy with someone else knowing what I'm capable of. I'm not going to win straight-up in a fight with anyone here, but I can play dirty. I'm sure you can teach me to use that to my advantage."

Nuada gestured at their positions. Dryly, he said, "I don't think you need any help on that score."

John smiled, but his expression was still somber. "I want you as my teacher. Please."

There was no way Nuada could refuse that. Sighing, he said, "Very well, but we are taking precautions. I will not rush this."

"Whatever pleases you. I have nothing but time." John smiled again. Then he playfully hit Nuada's foot and jumped to his feet to grab his shirt. "Now, come on. If we're too late to see the Guards fight, then let's get breakfast. I'm starving."

Nuada just shook his head.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm sorry that I'm late," John said as he rushed down the stairs to the garden where Nuada waited. "Nuala's language lesson went long."

"Having difficulties with our tongue?" Nuada asked, throwing him a training sword.

"Nah, we just got off topic."

Nuada lifted an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Er. . ." Belatedly, John remembered what Nuala had warned him of during their conversation. He quickly assumed a ready position inviting Nuada to begin the match and said, "How was the meeting with the fairies? Did they agree to the night-garden compromise?"

Nuada moved to face John, bringing his sword up. "Prepare to block."

As John moved his sword to absorb Nuada's blow, Nuada said, "The fairies agreed, but not happily. While our new kingdom is very fair, it is no substitute for the wild, untamed growth of a forest. The night-garden satisfies for now, but mark my words, there will be trouble sooner than later."

Snake-bite quick, Nuada moved from an overhead strike to one coming from the side. John knew to expect it. He had two choices. The ideal was to get his own sword there to block in time, but it was easier to hop away and out of range.

"You changed the subject," Nuada said.

"What?" John said, turning to meet Nuada's next strike to his other side.

"What did you and Nuala speak of?" Nuada said.

John sighed, seeing he wasn't going to derail Nuada. "Nuala said it was wiser not to mention it."

"Mention what?" Nuada went through a series of strikes. They were slowed down enough that John had a chance to meet them but it was still difficult for John to keep up.

"We were discussing Lord Sreng's request at Court today, which led to a discussion on politics in general, which led to a discussion on history, and so on. You know how it goes."

"Watch your feet," Nuada said sharply as John moved to block the next series of strikes and twisted in a way that was dangerously close to overbalancing him. John corrected himself quickly, and took the next hit with a strong stance. "I fail to see why my sister should warn you about that. There's more, I presume?"

Realizing Nuada wouldn't be deterred until he knew, John said, "We ended up talking about the Shadow Wall."

Nuada drew back from his strike, pausing the battle for a moment before again bringing his sword up to telegraph the attack he was going to do. John immediately took the appropriate defensive stance, and they again traded blows.

"What did my sister have to say?" Nuada asked.

"Well, she explained Lord Sreng's long history with the King, going back to Aiglin's time. She said he volunteered a different interpretation of the prophecy everyone heard when Aiglin disappeared, and he opposed an expedition to the Nightlands, which is why your mom went on her own. Nuala said he publicly expresses regret about that—since it wouldn't be wise to crow about the Queen's death, obviously—but he still maintains opposition to the kingdom down here. He says the Shadow Wall by the Queen's Lantern proves this place is not your true right—that you all misunderstood or something."

John dodged and blocked as he spoke, finding it difficult to concentrate on both, but knowing that was likely the lesson here.

"Lord Sreng has always had a self-important view of himself. It doesn't matter what he thinks," Nuada said, increasing the speed of his attacks slightly.

"Hey, I just want to understand what's going on in Court. If you want to debate it, I'm pretty sure your sister is still in the library." John managed to block three of the quicker strikes and then dodged to put some distance between them.

Nuada made a little gesture with his sword as if he acknowledged John's point, and then focused on the fight. John again took up a blocking pose, and Nuada was kind enough to strike in a way John could defend before starting a new flurry of strikes.

John tried not to get ahead of himself, but he thought he was making real improvement from all the sparring practice they were doing. He certainly couldn't kick Nuada's butt—probably couldn't even keep up with him in a real fight—but he wasn't blindly flailing about anymore either.

"So," John said, wanting to get Nuada back in a friendlier mood, "Nuala also told me a herd of monoceroses got loose in the market yesterday. I'm surprised it wasn't brought up at Court."

"Chaos in the market is not unusual," Nuada said in such a bland tone that John laughed.

Nuada's strikes continued, and John was pushed back. The wall of the garden was coming up, leaving him nowhere to maneuver. John struggled to keep up as he looked for an opening of escape.

His inattention cost him; Nuada struck down. John twisted to avoid it, but in doing so, he lost balance and fell hard on his butt.

Immediately, Nuada withdrew a step and waited. Knowing what was expected, John said, "I'm okay," as he got back to his feet. Still, Nuada waited. John made a show of checking himself over. "I don't think that one's even going to bruise." He then put up a defense again and said, "I'm ready."

Nuada hesitated—as he _always_ did after John took a fall—but he again struck out at John's defense. He had noted Nuada responded to John's inevitable missteps and blunders by being more cautious in his attacks, slowing things down again.

John had given up being annoyed by it, deciding instead to use Nuada's caution to try to be more aggressive and hopefully score a hit of his own. So far, he hadn't managed it, but he was sure one day he would.

"You're distracted," Nuada said, as John blocked a series of careful strikes. "There's something on your mind."

"There is?" John felt like he was focused on the fight. He was trying to take more control over his location, leading away from the wall. He wasn't sure he wanted to be in the open, knowing Nuada could easily get behind him. There weren't too many other options though. He decided to keep his back to the garden.

Nuada responded with a sudden burst of speed in his strikes, and John had to jump onto the short garden wall or risk falling again.

"What is it?" Nuada pressed.

Huffing in annoyance, John thought about it a moment. "What do you think is beyond the Shadow Wall?"

"More Shadows," Nuada said.

"No, really. Nuala says Lord Sreng and his ilk think the Shadow Wall hides dangers that could jeopardize the new kingdom."

Nuada made a face. "Lord Sreng is trying to get concessions. Fear-mongering has always worked well for him."

"So you don't think there's anything there?" John didn't know why, but he felt disappointed.

Perhaps sensing that, Nuada frowned. He walked forward, offering his hand. Even though it wasn't high enough to warrant it, John accepted his offer of help in getting down from the wall. "There is no reason to be afraid of shadows."

"I'm not afraid."

"Then why do you ask?" Nuada asked.

John didn't know. He didn't know why he kept thinking about the Queen's Lantern. He'd only seen it the one time. There was nothing fancy or interesting about it.

But he couldn't let it go.

Not having an answer for Nuada, John simply shrugged. "Come on." He took up his defensive pose once more. "I'll never learn anything if you keep going easy on me."

Nuada sighed. John wasn't sure, but he thought he might have caught a smile tugging at his lips.

John counted that as a win. Nuada once again struck his defense, and John was pleased to see it was the same kind of blow they had started out with. Still not anywhere near as fast as their first fight, but not totally treating him with kid-gloves.

John had never really thought about mastering swordsmanship before, but he was enjoying their daily sparring. He found it was easier to talk to Nuada this way, easier to get Nuada to open up and engage with him.

Nuada was still reticent about some things—it was good for John's health to avoid certain topics and not to push too hard at others—but John was definitely seeing improvement here.

These last few weeks, he had finally begun to see a glimmer of hope that his marriage might not be a joyless slog with someone who could never be friendly to him. John didn't have a high bar, so anything more than that was definitely a win.

He took Nuada's subtle warning to heart though, forcing away whatever thoughts were rolling around unconsciously in his head, and focusing on the fight.

"Watch your feet." It was probably Nuada's most repeated warning. John quickly corrected his feet, giving himself better balance for Nuada's next strike. They circled slowly as Nuada offered strikes, and John did his best to block. John felt ambitious tonight. He wanted to try to get at least one strike under Nuada's guard.

John didn't realize until it was too late that he was trading one distraction for another. He was focused on Nuada's elbows, hoping to catch him there, and again forgot his footing. A slight unevenness in the tiles of the courtyard tripped him up at the same time Nuada came down on a strike that John should've been able to block easily.

John didn't block it, taking the full force of the hit at the same time his foot came out from under him. He fell back hard, hitting his head on the lip of the garden wall.

"John?" Nuada said, again stepping back as he usually did during a fall.

Opening his eyes, John's vision swam for a moment. He knew that wasn't good. "I yield."

"You do?" Nuada's tone was sharp with alarm. John couldn't blame him; John had never yielded before, but he knew not to mess with head wounds. Nuada dropped his sword and rushed to John's side. "Are you okay?"

"Hit my head," John said, carefully sitting up. Nuada's fingers were surprisingly gentle as they probed the back of his head. John hissed in pain even at that careful exploration. Nuada echoed the sound when he saw the blood on his fingers.

"I'm calling a healer—"

"Nuada, don't overreact," John said.

"This is serious," Nuada said, looking anxiously as John pushed himself up to sit on the lip of the low garden wall.

"Which is why we're going to stop sparring, and I'm going to take it easy. But I keep telling you, I'm not fragile." It was hard with John's vision not quite settling, but he hoped he was giving Nuada a determined look.

Nuada hesitated, and then took John's hand. There was a noticeable pause, and then Nuada sighed exasperatedly. He put John's hand over his shoulder. "Very well. But you will retire right now. If you take a turn for the worse, I _will_ call a healer."

"Sure." John doubted he would so it was easy to give in. He hated to admit it, but he did need Nuada's help to get up and to keep him steady. He felt a bit wobbly. Bed sounded pretty good right now.

***

John's head was throbbing when he woke up. Groaning, he turned over to get away from the bright light stabbing him in the eyes.

"John?" Nuada's voice sounded concerned. He walked over to the bed, and it was a welcome relief when his body blocked some of the light. "Are you feeling better?"

For a moment, John struggled not to snort incredulously. He forced himself to take stock of himself, and he realized he felt worse than he had when he'd gone to bed last night.

He groaned again, this time in frustration. "John?" Nuada's tone was sharper now, the worry more pronounced. He gently urged John to turn and face him. "Does your head still hurt?"

Once again, Nuada gently probed the generous bump on the back of his head. John hissed at the feeling, which sent ricochets of pain through his head.

It took a moment, though, for John to realize that his head injury didn't fully explain how rotten he felt. "I think I'm sick."

"Sick?" Nuada's sharp tone snapped with alarm.

John shrugged, the overall body ache making even that gesture a chore. "My head is stuffy." He shivered, and he pressed his hand to his forehead to feel the familiar too-warm feeling of fever. "I feel like I've been run over by a truck. You know, the usual stuff."

"Usual stuff." If John didn't feel so bad, he might tease Nuada about just repeating what he said, but John didn't have the energy.

"Yeah. Don't worry." John mumbled the words into his pillow, tucking himself into the blankets.

"I will call for a healer." Nuada's tone was decisive.

Eyes closed, John said, "No need for that. I just need to drink plenty of water and rest. It'll be fine."

"It _will_ be fine," Nuada said. "And I will get a healer to make sure it is so."

John just sighed, not having the energy to argue. "Whatever. I'm going back to sleep."

With the way his head was pounding, the feeling of being too warm and shivering, and the intense fatigue, John couldn't quite fall asleep but he wasn't entirely aware of his surroundings either.

Floating in this in-between state, he wasn't sure if he imagined the gentle touch of fingers stroking his hair or not. The soothing touch helped settle his aches and pains just enough to let him fall back asleep.

***

Nuala knocked softly.

"Come in, Sister."

Warily, Nuala pushed open the door to John and Nuada's bedroom. She found John fast asleep, Nuada sitting in a chair beside the bed.

"How is John faring?" Nuala stayed near the safety of the door, just in case.

Nuada's expression was hard to read. The complicated emotions singing along their bond was even harder to pin down. His tone was even when he said, "His sleep has been uneventful since dinner."

"That is good." Nuala paused, gathering her courage. "I heard that you threw out the Royal Healer."

"He knows nothing of human diseases. He says John's illness has nothing to do with the head injury. He had nothing to cure his ailment, and said John simply has to endure until it passes."

"What does John say?" Nuala asked, anticipating the answer.

"He agreed with the Healer."

Nuala wisely held her tongue, but she was sure Nuada knew her answer to that. Instead, she said, "The Royal Healer did some research, and has found some remedies that may give John some ease while he battles his illness."

Nuada's expression darkened, and Nuala braced herself, holding tightly to the tray of tonics the Healer had given to her. But, not unusual for her mercurial brother, Nuada forced himself to relax and gestured to a table.

Nodding to him, Nuala glided over to set down her burden.

"Is that why you've come? To shield the Royal Healer from my wrath?" Nuada's tone was grim, but his attention had turned back to John.

Nuala also studied John, from a distance. "That and Father wanted to let you know that he obviously doesn't expect you at Court while your husband is ill. You are excused until he is better."

Nuada did not react outwardly to her pronouncement, but she could feel his emotions boil hot for a moment. Again, he mastered himself quickly enough. If she didn't know him so well, she would not have seen anything at all.

"I'm sure you will make the correct response to the King on my behalf," Nuada said.

"Of course." Nuala chanced to take a step closer. "We are all concerned for John, but I'm sure if he thinks he will be well, he will be. He is more experienced in this sort of thing than anyone here is."

"Your concern is noted."

Nuala sighed, knowing her brother was in no mood for her company. She would have liked to ease her brother's mind, but if he would not hear it, she was wasting her time. It was clear only John's return to health would satisfy.

Walking back to the door, she was stopped when Nuada said, "John will appreciate that you stopped by. I will tell him when he wakes up."

"Thank you. Please let him know that I have missed our daily lessons, and I hope he will be up to resume them soon."

Nuada nodded, and Nuala decided it was best to leave it there. She glanced at John one last time, and then left.

***

John was studying the game-board, contemplating his next move, when Nuada returned.

"Thank you," John said, accepting the teacup Nuada handed to him. "It's your turn."

Nuada considered the board for only a moment before moving his goblin into John's defending area, taking out two of John's troll pieces.

John sighed, taking a sip of his tea as he tried to figure out how to get out of this new predicament.

"Are you warm enough?" Nuada asked, settling in the seat opposite him.

"Definitely. That fireplace puts out a lot of heat." John had had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, but it had slipped behind him during the game and he was more comfortable without it.

"Too much?" Nuada asked.

"Not right now." John put a finger on his last remaining troll, hesitating a moment before sliding it into the armory.

Nuada pulled out a shield from his own armory and placed it on the troll he was keeping in reserve. As he did, his sleeve rolled up, and John saw the compelling mark.

"It's pretty pale now. Is the compulsion fading too?" he asked. When he asked the King to remove the mark, the King had said it would be removed in time. Nuala and Nuada had both told him to leave it be for now, but John had intended to bring it up again before he got sick. He felt a little guilty for forgetting about it, even if only for the week he'd been ill.

Nuada glanced at his arm. "The compulsion was never strong enough to truly bind my actions, but even that is fading. I could leave your side now, if I wished, though I doubt it would be comfortable. It seems the magic my father used is of the type that must be renewed to be sustained. My father must have intended to rekindle it as long as he felt his interference in our marriage was warranted. Of course, that was never needed in the first place, so it is not surprising he has done nothing more to enforce his will. He has made his will known; nothing more is needed. I'm sure that in a few months, the mark will be gone completely."

"That's a relief to hear." John had never felt right with magic compelling Nuada to stay with him.

John slid a guard in front of his defending area. "So, you could be doing something else right now?"

"Was there something else you wanted me to be doing right now?" Nuada asked, moving his goblin to challenge the guard.

John frowned at the board, trying to decide what to do now. "I enjoy your company, but I can't imagine you enjoy playing nursemaid. I'm fine now. In a week, I'll be one hundred percent again. You don't have to keep me company. I know you must have more important things to do."

"My father has excused me from my duties. There is nothing else to occupy my time at present," Nuada said with an unconcerned shrug.

"Oh." John wasn't sure how he felt about that. Grabbing his now armored troll, John slid it near the guard. "Well, Nuala's giving me a language lesson tomorrow. That might be a good time to meet with Sir Elcmar. Weren't you waiting for some news from him?"

"I might do that." Nuada selected his banshee and slid it straight through the opening John had left and took his castle, winning the game.

John sighed. "Clearly, I'm still not firing on all cylinders today. Reset the game. I'll win the next one."

A strange expression passed over Nuada's face, but before John could try to decipher it, there was a knock at the door. "I'll be right back," Nuada said needlessly before jumping to his feet and going to the parlor to see who was there.

John slumped back in his chair, passing a hand over his forehead. He didn't want to show it, but he still felt wiped. He'd had this before where the effects of a fever just lingered irritatingly for a few weeks after he'd gotten over the worst of it.

Normally, that was a nuisance but nothing serious. John's health wasn't at risk, but he wondered about his marriage. Nuada had been more withdrawn since John had fallen ill. John was finding it harder to get him to open up. It felt like all the work he'd put in to build a rapport over the last few months was just gone.

Yet, Nuada was still here. John wasn't sure what to think, and he was trying not to get ahead of himself by assuming what was going on in his husband's head.

"Dinner is here," Nuada said.

"I'll join you once I've washed up."

Nuada nodded and disappeared back into their parlor. John lurched to his feet and shuffled towards the bathing chamber to splash some water on his face. He wanted to make it through dinner without face-planting into a bowl of soup.

It was clear John was in no position to confront Nuada about whatever was going on with him. But he would be. In a week or two, he would regain his strength and stamina, and then he would push the issue.


	4. Chapter 4

Entering the parlor, Nuada did not see John. An investigation of the study and bedroom revealed the same. That left the dojo and garden—and the inevitable confrontation that had been brewing all week.

John had been dancing around the subject with increasing lack of subtlety; it was only a matter of time that he decided he'd had enough.

Indeed, when Nuada entered the dojo, he found John there with a pair of training swords at his feet. He was going through some warm-ups, but stopped when he saw Nuada.

"You're back early. Just in time to practice with me," he said, snagging both swords and throwing one at Nuada.

On reflex, Nuada caught it. He looked at it for a moment before letting his arm hang limp at his side. "That won't be happening."

"Why is that?" John didn't look surprised. His tone was mild, but Nuada sensed that John was ready for this confrontation too. "If it's because I've been sick, I can assure you I'm well again. No need to worry."

His tone again belied that he thought that was the problem, but there was a hint of doubt there.

After calmly walking to a nearby cabinet, Nuada put the wooden sword away. "We both know the purpose for these lessons was not to teach you to fight. You already know how to fight. There will never be a situation where you will have to resort to swordplay. If a ceremonial duel is called for, it will fall to me to answer it, by law."

"I don't know anything about that. I do know I've learned a lot in our sparring together, and I know there is much more I have to learn." John paused, a shrewd look on his face. "But that's not why you're refusing today, is it?"

"No." Shutting the cabinet doors, Nuada delayed in turning to face John. He considered what he would say and what he was prepared to do. This would be easier if the path forward was clear, but it was not. He couldn't rightly say what he wanted here. "You have been engaging me with the purpose of knowing me better. That is the real purpose behind your request to spar."

Turning, Nuada looked John in the eyes. John hesitated before squaring his shoulders and saying, "And is that so bad?"

Well, that was the question, wasn't it? Nuada felt at war but he wasn't sure what conflicted him so. Why did he feel so strongly that this had to stop? Why, when he enjoyed spending time with John, seeing him improve?

What was there to fear?

Nuada bristled at the idea that he feared anything and said, "This is an elven realm. Everyone knows humans no longer wield swords, and you are very human. No one could ever forget that."

John frowned. "So, there will never be welcome for me here?"

"There will never be _fit_ here. You can try as hard as you like, but you will never be an elf. Your attempt at assimilation will only end in failure."

John's frown turned into a scowl. "I'm not trying to assimilate. I'm trying to _understand_."

"Your understanding is not necessary. It is not wanted." Nuada could feel his ire growing, but he wasn't sure what he was angry at.

John looked honestly confused. "Why?"

"The secrets of this kingdom are not for humans," Nuada said, falling back into the haughty self-righteousness that had carried him through the theft of the crown piece from his father.

"I'm not looking for secrets," John said, looking annoyed. "You're my husband. I want to know _you_. I'm living in this kingdom, and I'm going to spend the majority of my life down here. It's only courtesy to know the rules—to make sure I'm not going to cause an interspecies incident, and show respect to the people I've pledged to help."

"Yes, it starts there, but where does it end? It is just like you humans. You start out innocently enough, but you keep pushing and pushing for more. Nothing satisfies."

John's confusion returned. "Where is this coming from?" Yes, that was a good question. Why did Nuada feel so tied up in knots? Why couldn't he go through the motions of a good husband? "Have you felt like this the whole time?

John had the audacity to sound hurt, and something snapped in Nuada. "Yes! Humans are hollow, proud, empty creatures. I have tired of seeing you trying to fill the hole in your heart with _my_ traditions. It will stop now."

"You are being unreasonable, and I don't understand why. What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing." Frustrated, Nuada turned to leave. Not unexpectedly, John jumped forward to grab his arm.

"No, this is important. If you don't want to spar, okay. I'm sorry to push you." Nuada could feel his earnest sincerity from where they touched. "But, Nuada, we are married. Our marriage must succeed for the good of your people. I don't know how else to do that but to get to know each other—to find a way to _like_ each other. What would you have me do?"

Nuada was filled with a completely irrational fury. He was angry at John for keeping his head when Nuada could not, angry at himself for not knowing what to do, angry at himself for still feeling shaky at the memory of John sick in bed.

"Nothing!" Nuada shouted. "There is nothing you can do. Can you not see that? We are from two different worlds that are separated for a reason. There is nothing you can do to change that, and you _need to stop trying_."

Nuada was horrified to see the hurt that flashed across John's face. For a moment, it felt like his words could be recalled—that he could apologize or explain—or John would say something to diffuse the tense atmosphere.

But a sharp, loud sound had them both snapping their attention to the ceiling. A large crack was opening up before their eyes, raining down small bits of wood and plaster.

John and Nuada locked eyes, and they both knew the sign for what it was. Their marriage was the only thing holding this world together. They _had_ to find a way forward.

It was on Nuada to do that, but he just couldn't. Regretting it before he even uttered the words, Nuada said it anyway: "This was a mistake."

Turning sharply on his heel, he left. John did not do anything to stop him.

The mark on Nuada's arm burned, but he welcomed the feeling. It was no more than he deserved.

***

For a long time, John stared up at the crack in the ceiling. He felt like he was missing something, but that sensation was drowned by a sinking feeling in his stomach. He felt like he was failing.

Rationally, he knew that this was Nuada's problem. John thought something about his injury or his illness had triggered this, but he wasn't entirely sure. Perhaps his illness was too human?

That was a depressing thought. John had thought they were making progress, but if Nuada couldn't accept that he was human—could never see anything worthwhile in a human—then the marriage was doomed, and the whole kingdom with it.

Finally turning, John put away the practice sword. He was tired. Just a few minutes ago, he had felt up to a short sparing match, but now he felt like he had right after his fever had broken.

It wasn't the remnants of being sick. He was mostly better. This felt deeper—a soul-deep weariness that everything he'd been doing here was for nothing.

He wondered if he had misunderstood everything. Was every kind word masking some hidden meaning? Was every gesture of good will merely performed out of fear that their new kingdom would fall if John were driven away? Was every answer to his questions begrudged as knowledge he did not deserve?

John wandered out to the garden and sat on the low wall, head in his hands. He knew this wasn't insurmountable. Nuada had to return. They would argue it out. It would take time, but John did believe that Nuada wanted what was best for his people. If they had to start from square one again, then that was what they would do.

But would it be enough?

Perhaps that was the sinking feeling in John's stomach—this sense that it wouldn't be. John couldn't deny that he was human. Nuada was an elf. They might look similar but there was a soul-deep difference between them, born of more than culture, the disparity in their ages, the history that shaped them. Had John fallen into the trap of treating Nuada like a human?

John knew what Nuada was referring to when he said humans were empty; he had read in the briefings about the old legend that humans were born with an unfillable hole in their hearts. John didn't think there was any truth to the legend, but maybe in comparison to an elf, humans were hollow. So, what did it feel like to be an elf? What if Nuada was right, and John's very nature was unsuited to live here? What did they do then?

The longer he thought about it, the more John felt that they'd reached an insurmountable barricade. If Nuada really believed what he'd said—and John had no reason to think he didn't—then nothing John did could bridge their peoples.

John was surprised by how much that hurt. He had begun to like Nuada—quite a lot, actually. Since they were married and the whole point was to be together for the greater good, John had done nothing to guard his heart. He had thought that Nuada was beginning to like him too. John had started to hope that they could be friends, and maybe eventually have the kind of loving marriage Nuala had talked about. It was foolish, he knew.

A broken heart was a terrible thing, but it was something John could live with. Nuada acting like an ass would make that easier, even if John felt certain there was more to the story there.

But the loss of a kingdom—of a hope born of centuries of waiting—and it being on John, that was more than he thought he could bear.

So, what did he do? How could he circumvent the marriage vows to allow the people to remain here even when their marriage fell apart?

_It's time, John_.

Frowning, John looked up. He had thought . . . but no. There was no one there.

A thought struck him though, and he only hesitated a moment before returning to the dojo. In the same cabinet where the wooden training swords were kept was a magnificent sword; it was the sword John had initially approached Nuada with before Nuada had redirected him to the training swords.

John unsheathed the sword, finding it sharp and shiny. As he studied it, he weighed the idea that had crossed his mind. Perhaps, if Nuada had not just blown up at him, he would've discarded the notion, but with his doubt about how he and Nuada could ever last long-term, the idea didn't seem bad.

Sheathing the sword, John took it with him as he headed towards the Royal Stables.

***

On a lonely ledge below the palace, Nuada numbly watched the market on the other side of the void. He didn't really _see_ anything, though. His thoughts were in turmoil.

The mark on his arm throbbed in an angry tempo, reminding him where he should have been instead of where he was. It urged him to return, and he couldn't even be frustrated at it, since it called him to where his heart wanted to go anyway.

The pain was only what he deserved. Indeed, it was weak in that regard. For what he'd done, Nuada deserved to be infected with a whole clan of Alp-luachras.

But, even that would be taking the easy way out. Nuada regretted all that he'd said, but he knew regretting a thing wasn't enough. He'd regretted it before he'd done it, and that had not stopped him from lashing out at his husband.

It was that which haunted Nuada. He kept remembering the hurt in John's eyes. A part of him could practically _feel_ that hurt, and he wondered if he was finally experiencing the spousal bond elves enjoyed—just in time to be tormented by it.

Shaking his head angrily at himself, Nuada paced the ledge. Feeling bad was a luxury he could indulge. It wasn't what he was here to do.

There were very few times in his life where Nuada had well and truly screwed up—when he was unequivocally wrong. It was not a situation to which he reacted well.

But he was a prince, and he knew it was his duty to face up to it when he found himself in this situation.

It wasn't enough to regret what he'd done. He needed to know _why_ he had done it before he could ever make things right.

Pacing was procrastinating. Nuada was afraid of what lay in his heart, and he had spent hours stewing to avoid facing it.

The waste of time began to irritate him, and he finally forced himself through the unpleasant soul-searching he was here for.

The easiest admission was to acknowledge that John was a good man—a good husband. Nuada had not exactly shied away from this over the last few months, but he forced himself to really acknowledge it.

John was a wonderful mate. He tried to meet Nuada more than halfway in all their encounters. His heart was earnest and kind. Nuada could not imagine doing what John had done—leaving everyone and everything he knew to stay among a different species, married to a man who had tried to exterminate his own people—and doing it with so much grace and good will.

More than that, John was proving to be an unexpectedly good match for Nuada. He was respectful without being apologetic about who or what he was. He pushed Nuada to be better. John was no pushover. At the same time, his very human nature meant he was fragile to Nuada's mind. Nuada wanted nothing more than to protect him from all the dangers in the world. The fact that John wouldn't let him do that—that he continued to be challenging—both irritated and endeared him to Nuada.

Nuada could admit that John was the very best of men, and he was certainly more than worthy to be Nuada's spouse.

But this easy acknowledgment was a bitter one because Nuada had to pair it with his appalling behavior. Any action on Nuada's part to help this marriage along had been instigated by John. He hadn't done nearly as much as John, which was unconscionable for a prince.

On a personal level, Nuada had also failed. He had hurt a good man for no reason.

Unhappy with himself, Nuada crossed his arms and again looked out over the void. It wasn't enough to admit to John's basic good nature. Nuada had charged John with being human, as if his very nature was an indictment against him.

Obviously, John could not be blamed for being human any more than Nuada could be blamed for being an elf. Certainly, John had acquitted himself in a far superior manner than Nuada could boast.

But it did beg the question if there wasn't some hidden truth to Nuada's words. Nuada was man enough to admit his accusation that John was merely trying to fill the hole in his heart was baseless and unworthy. Were Nuada in his position, he might have done much the same, if not for the same reason.

Trying to learn more about the enemy to shield himself from possible harm and to equip himself for future conflicts, trying to ingratiate himself to lower his opponent's guard—these were all obvious and natural uses of his time. That John didn't see it in that light—that he wanted merely to feel more comfortable in his new environment and uphold his end of their wedding vows—hardly mattered. It was not a transgression.

Was there truth, though, in Nuada's observation that John could try to use this to fill the hole in his heart? Was their truth in the fear that what started innocently could lead down a dark road?

Nuada felt immediately impatient with these thoughts. It felt unworthy to reward John's earnest attempts to fulfill the arrangement the elves had demanded of the humans with distrust about some nebulous future mistake. There was nothing in John's manner that suggested greed, of any kind. If the hole in his heart demanded something more than the elves could give, Nuada was sure merely asking John to stop would be more than enough.

King Balor was right; humans could not help their nature. Nuada had agreed to the marriage knowing that. He couldn't now reject John because of it.

Nuada did acknowledge, though, that there was a part of himself that was uneasy. It was almost worse that John was such a good man. When the hole in his heart brought John down, it would be even harder to see.

And yet, should that happen, wouldn't that be a perfect moment for Nuada to finally reciprocate all of the work John was putting into this marriage? To offer a hand to help John back up?

That was what a marriage was, after all, wasn't it? To stand by your partner though the dark times as well as the bright ones. To help your spouse be the best version of themselves.

If Nuada managed to salvage something from this current fiasco, he knew John's presence in his life was definitely an improvement.

Acknowledging his fear instantly put it to rest.

None of this explained Nuada's actions. Reluctantly digging deeper, Nuada faced the real truth.

He closed his eyes, and felt again the sharp alarm he'd experienced when John had hit his head. He felt the helplessness of watching John struggle through his fever. He remembered touching John's skin, and through their bond, feeling just how miserable John really felt.

That John was vulnerable was not news to Nuada, but the last few weeks had hammered home to him just how fragile humans were compared to elves. It hammered home how _mortal_ John was.

Nuada's breath hitched, his eyes snapping open.

The instant recognition was a gut-punch. Nuada realized two things: he had fallen in love with John Myers, and he would lose him.

Of all the potential pains he had expected of this marriage, Nuada hadn't once seriously considered that it would be the pain of losing someone he loved. He was blinded to the idea that he could ever love a human, and their mortality had not crossed his mind.

It did now though. Nuada felt the sharp joy of new love like a dagger to the heart. It felt so unfair to finally find, after all the centuries of his life, the perfect companion to spend his days.

For a moment, Nuada's mind raced through potential workarounds—potions, spells, curses that promised immortality—but realized that he was doing what humans did. There was no fix for human mortality because it was not a thing that was broken.

In a moment of clarity, Nuada saw the possible consequence of this marriage. John would grow old and die, and Nuada would carry with him the impact of his lost love to temper his fire and bring him wisdom.

Was this marriage worth that heartache?

Of course it was. Nuada saw that now. He realized that he had lashed out at John for fear of the hold he had on him, for fear of the loss that loomed in the future.

But the future was not a place elves lived in, not for long. It was this moment that Nuada dwelled in, and in this moment, he had hurt someone he loved.

Angry with himself, Nuada turned on his heel and dashed up the stairs to the palace to find his husband.

***

John stood before the Queen's Lantern, wondering at this strange urge that had driven him here. It had been easy enough to find the same pair of dragons that had taken him here the first time. They had needed no particular instruction on how to get back here again.

The entire trip, John had not had any clear indication of what he was really doing. That was still true now.

Nuada had warned him away from touching the Lantern. Was it just because it was the last remnant of the mother Nuada had lost or was there something more?

John waffled. He had no wish to hurt Nuada, and he felt there was potential here for that. But something deeper urged him on, and John hesitantly let his fingers brush against the stone handle.

A rush of sensation flowed along his fingertips. He couldn't tell if it was coming from the Lantern into him or going from him into the Lantern. He only knew that the ground around the Lantern loosened, letting him pick it up. The moment he did, a faint light began to grow inside the lamp.

It was a strange, pure light. John had never seen its like before, but it felt so familiar to him.

Movement out of the corner of his eye made John look at the Shadow Wall. He wasn't sure what he was seeing, so he moved closer. When he did, he was astonished to see the Wall give way.

A vast corridor opened up before him. As he walked forward, lamps embedded high in the walls lit up. Each step pushed the Shadow further away, and more lights lit along his path.

Standing at the threshold of the immense hallway, John hesitated. What was he doing here? What did he hope to achieve?

_This is a mistake_. Nuada's words echoed in his head.

If that was so, then there was nothing to stop John from making it. Pulling out the sword, the Lantern held firmly in his other hand, John started down the long passageway.

***

It took all of Nuada's self-restraint not to yell at the dragons to go faster. He knew they were going as fast as they could. They could sense his urgency.

But this was the second trip they had taken today, and it appeared they had a long way to go. Nuada wished they could speak and let him know where they were taking him—where they had taken John.

Once he had made his decision to apologize to John, he had immediately returned to their rooms, but there was no one there. Nuada had searched the palace before a retainer had informed him that John had left with this pair of dragons, and that had been soon after their fight.

Nuada had feared that John had decided he'd had enough and left for the surface. It was well within his rights, but it drove a spike into Nuada's heart to think he'd driven his husband away.

He was surprised, though, when the dragons had gone in the opposite direction. As far as Nuada knew, John had only gone one place in this direction, and Nuada had no idea why John would go there now.

But, at least, there was a chance Nuada could catch up to him. Then he would have the chance to apologize and fix what he'd broken.

Finally, Sir Elcmar's town came into view. The dragons did not speed towards it, as Nuada expected. Rather, they slipped by it and headed to the Shadow Wall.

Nuada's eyes widened at what he saw.

It seemed all of the townsfolk were scatted around the stone circle, the murmur of their voices floating up to Nuada as he passed by. It was soon apparent what had caught their attention. The Shadow Wall had parted down the middle, revealing a hall of lights leading into the darkness.

Nuada again jumped from the cart before the dragons had landed. He spotted Sir Elcmar, and quickly headed to him. As he did, his eyes went to the circle of stone where the Queen's Lantern always rested. He almost stumbled when he saw that it was gone.

"My prince," Sir Elcmar said, hurrying to him. "Thank the gods you are here. Do you know what this is?"

Nuada shook his head. "No, I came by chance." Lowering his voice, he asked, "Have you seen my husband?"

"Here?" Sir Elcmar's surprise was enough of an answer. "No."

They both glanced at the hallway. The mark on Nuada's wrist began to burn again, and he knew that John had gone through there.

Sir Elcmar turned his attention back to Nuada, looking concerned. "My prince, is he-"

Nuada shook his head. "Speak of this to no one." He took out his own sword, intending to go after his husband.

A gentle hand to his elbow stopped him. "I must inform the King."

Reluctantly, Nuada nodded. "Send your most trusted messenger. We do not want this to spread."

"I understand." Sir Elcmar looked at all the folk milling about. "I fear that it's too late for that."

Nuada nodded grimly. "Set a guard. No one is to go after us. Let my father know that is my command."

"I will see it done." Sir Elcmar looked like he wanted to say more—perhaps to ask what John's role in this was or to ask Nuada not to go—but in the end, he simply bowed.

Nuada strode purposefully to the lighted passageway, trying to tamp down on the feeling of dread churning in his belly.

_John, what have you done?_


	5. Chapter 5

There was no sense of time in the strange landscape John found himself in. It wasn't just that he wasn't sure how long he'd been here. His sense of the world felt muted and strange, like a subtle increase of gravity pulling him down.

He'd traveled a long way through the tunnel before it eventually opened up into a large space. John wasn't sure how large; the Shadows still clung. There were no lamps to light, and he had only the Lantern to guide his way.

John had found, though, that when he wished for more light, the Lantern responded. He could not light the entire cavern but he could see a large swathe of it.

It looked like a dead forest. When John got closer, however, he could see the trees were not trees. They had a tree-like appearance with a trunk and branches, but they were black and tarry and had flat surfaces like crystal. They moved as he passed them; more than one lashed out with knife-like limbs. John had enough room to dodge them or use his sword to cut them when he couldn't. For particularly stubborn "trees" or groups of them, John found that directing the Lantern's light at them made them back off.

Fortunately, they seemed stuck in place and their reach was not enough to grab him. John kept alert. This place was clearly dangerous.

He didn't know where he was going, but he kept walking.

Walking up a gentle slope, John suddenly found what he was looking for. He didn't know what it was, but the sense of certainty was unmistakable.

A large mass took up the entire hill. It was clearly similar to the tree-structures in makeup, but it was too bulky to look like a tree. It was like a giant pile of black goop with tendrils reaching out in every direction.

Against the inky background, the pale white of a hand was immediately visible. John surged forward.

"That's far enough!" a voice boomed, rattling the earth beneath John's feet. John halted, looking around for the voice.

"Who's there?"

In response to his question, a clump of tendrils wrapped themselves together. Like tar, they oozed into each other until they were another mass, although smaller than the large one on the hill. The mass undulated and shifted until it had a human-like form. The head was formless save for a cavity where a gaping mouth formed.

"This is my domain, and you are trespassing."

John didn't bother answering that charge. Instead, he turned the Lantern's light on the hand sticking out of the goop. A little of the goop retreated in the light, revealing a bit more of the wrist.

"Is that the Queen's body?" he asked. As he looked, he saw another lantern, just like the one he was holding, broken at the bottom of the goopy mass.

"Yes, the elven Queen." There was smug glee in the voice now. "She has fed me for a long time."

More cautiously now, John again approached the hand sticking out of the inky mass. It looked perfectly normal—no sign of decay or anything. John put the Lantern down, keeping his sword ready. He reached out to grasp the hand. It wasn't cold as he expected, although not warm either. When he moved his hand, he thought he felt a slight flutter of the fingers he was holding.

He whirled around at the human-shaped mass. "She's still alive?"

"Alive, dead, undead, all alike to me. She feeds me all the same."

John turned to find the fake trees were moving closer, blocking off his avenues for escape.

Snatching up the Lantern, John took on a defensive pose. "You will free her."

The laugh that reverberated through the cavern made John's skin crawl. "You will fight me for her, will you? You cannot hope to survive."

The tendrils around him sharpened into blades at the end, poised to strike. They hung in the air all around, the threat clear. John's shoulders slumped. The creature—or whatever it was—was correct. He was in over his head here.

Dropping the sword, he said, "No. I didn't come to fight."

"You came to die, then?" The words were mocking.

Standing erect, John said, "I came to make a bargain."

The tendrils heading his way paused. "A bargain? What have you to offer that is of interest to me?"

"My life."

The creature laughed again, but it wasn't quite so cutting. "I have a queen to sup on. What are you compared to that? A mere human?"

It said the last bit with a sneer.

"I am the husband of Nuada Silverlance of the elves. My marriage was sanctioned by an elven god."

The creature paused, and then said in apparent puzzlement, "Yes, you have been touched by magic." The sneering tone returned, "But that is nothing compared to the magic of a queen."

"A magic that must be near exhausted if you've had her here this whole time," John guessed. "Whatever magic I have, whatever life-energy I have, must be more than whatever you're still draining from her. It's a fair bargain."

The creature seemed to think about that. "You may be right."

John's heart sunk, as that was confirmation that the Queen must be in a bad way. Still, this was clearly the way forward. One human, even married to an elven prince, could not do any real good for the people of Bethmoora or ensure peace with the rest of humanity.

But the Queen could do so much good. She had been here. She likely understood this place better than John ever would, and she had sided with humanity in the old debates about Aiglin. She was what her people needed. She was what Nuada needed.

There was no choice. "Then do we have a bargain? Release the Queen, and you can have me instead."

The creature's chuckle was cold with menace. "So be it. Touch me, and trade a life for a life."

The crystal-trees stopped moving forward but the tendrils created a wall around the area. John held firm to the Lantern as he put his hand to the inky mass. It was sticky and gooey and gross, holding him fast.

John slowly pushed his arm up to the elbow, and then waited to see what would happen. He brought the Lantern up, ready to use it in whatever way he could if the creature went back on its word.

But, as John had thought, this was a magic creature and thus a bargain made in words was not one easily broken. The gooey tar surrounding the Queen's hand peeled back to reveal her elbow.

"I'm sorry, Nuada," John whispered softly, and then continued to enter the gooey mass.

***

If Nuada had wings, he could not have traveled as fast he did now. Using his magic, he had transported himself through the long hallway until magical resistance made it too dangerous. His feet were just as quick, and he raced after his lost husband, feeling a countdown ticking down in his head.

To what, he did not know. He just knew he had to stop it.

When he came upon the forest of blackened trees, he could see the light from the Lantern in the distance. John had a good head-start, but Nuada had the speed of elven feet and keen elven eyes to see in the dark.

The imposter trees sought to impede him, their dagger-sharp branches snapping out to try to skewer him. They uprooted themselves in their attempt to stop him, but that was a slow process and he could easily outrun or dodge them.

Nuada let nothing deter him, running straight for his husband.

What he found stopped him cold. He did not know what the thing was that existed upon the hill but it emanated a vile, twisted darkness. This thing was unnatural and evil. His impulse to destroy it was one he intended to indulge.

The light of the Lantern drew his eyes. He was stunned to see a limp elven body spilling out of the inky mass, held only by the wrist of one hand.

Beside it, the Lantern was held by a hand. The rest of the body was subsumed in the inky hulk. Nuada knew it was John's, and he raced forward.

"Stop, Prince!" a voice commanded. Nuada did not stop, proceeding to chop at the surrounding tendrils as he tried to get to his husband. "You have no business here. The bargain was freely struck."

Expertly slicing through the inky substance, Nuada tried to make an opening for himself. "I am not bound by whatever bargain my husband has made, and I would not believe it if you said my mother bargained with you. She would know better."

That the limp elven body was his mother's was clear to Nuada, but he couldn't spare grief to see her like that. He would save his husband, and then retrieve her body for a proper burial. He had to defeat this creature first before he could do anything.

The odds weren't good though. The creature, whatever it was, had infected the entire vast area, and was calling forth all of its might to stop Nuada. It was malleable, able to turn itself into almost any form. When Nuada cut off a piece, it dried and shattered, useless. But there was so much of the thing, and he had no idea where its heart was. Probably where the Queen and John were trapped, and Nuada just couldn't get close.

Suddenly, movement at the hulk of the creature caught Nuada's attention. He was stunned to see the body he had thought dead move. The Queen got her feet under her, grabbing her trapped wrist and yanking as hard as she could.

Freed abruptly, she tumbled away. She was weak, Nuada could see, but she was _alive_. Nuada couldn't afford to feel what that meant to him, knowing it would overwhelm him. He couldn't afford that. Now, he had two people he loved in need of rescue.

Pushing himself even harder, he hacked away at the inky creature with everything he had. Still, it wasn't enough.

"Nuada, behind you!"

The warning was just in time. Nuada turned to look, and in doing so the branch of a suddenly too-close tree just missed him. He cut off the branch, and then looked to see his mother.

Amazingly, Queen Boann was on her feet. More than that, she had taken up the sword John had dropped and had joined Nuada in cutting the inky hulk to pieces.

Menacing laughter echoed all around them. "Yes, tire yourself out. Keep cutting. They are but pinpricks to me. My new supper already renews me. A thousand years of siphoning the Queen's power—I am unstoppable."

Nuada hated to admit it, but the creature might be right. They weren't making any progress. More and more of the outlying trees the creature had left lying about were joining the already impressive mass. John was still stubbornly holding onto the Lantern, but it was only a matter of time before he was completely consumed.

Back-to-back with his mother, both fighting as hard as they could, Nuada wondered if this was where it would end.

Suddenly, the light of the Lantern was gone. Nuada looked, his night eyes seeing the edge of the Lantern as it was pulled into the inky hulk.

A moment later, a ghastly scream howled around them. It was so sharp and piercing that both Nuada and his mother fell to their knees, covering their ears.

All at once, the entire main hulk burst into flames, which raced along the tendrils until every inky part everywhere was engulfed.

"John!" Nuada raced toward the tree, or tried to.

Catching him, Boann said, "Wait."

Nuada watched in horror. "I have to save him."

"It's soul-fire. He may survive."

"Soul-fire can still burn." Nuada knew that was why his mother restrained him.

He could only watch helplessly as the creature burned all around him, bringing light to even the Shadows lingering in the ceiling of the cavern.

The fire burned hot but quickly, and soon there were only smoldering embers. John lay among them. Considering he had been in the heart of the blaze, he was in remarkably good shape. He only looked a little singed, a few minor burns on his exposed skin, but his clothing was sooty rather than burned.

But Nuada knew that didn't matter. Soul-fire burned the soul. John had been in the heart of that creature. Who knew what damage it had done? John wasn't an elf like Nuada's mother. He had no protection against that kind of attack.

"John?" Nuada fell to his knees beside his husband.

Weakly, John looked at him. "Nuada."

"You must hold on. We will get you help." Nuada gently pulled John into his arms.

"We both know there's no help for this." John's words were slow and faint, clearly taking effort. He gestured to Nuada's arm, and Nuada could see the mark had faded to almost nothing.

"No, I cannot lose you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it. I didn't mean it," Nuada said. This was his last chance to make things right, and it was more hollow and empty than a human could ever be.

"It's better this way," John whispered, and Nuada wasn't sure his husband had even heard him. "It's all too fragile, basing a kingdom on one marriage. But if I die, you can't say the marriage failed. Your people get their home, and you . . . you get your freedom."

"I don't want my freedom! I am not chained to you. I _choose_ you." Nuada pressed his forehead to John's, and whispered, "Please, it cannot end this way."

But John had closed his eyes, his chest barely moving as he used up the last of his breaths. Too late did Nuada see the gift he had squandered. It was all too late.

"Nuada, come!" Boann squatted on the other side of John. "If we are to save him, we must hurry."

"What can we possibly do?" Nuada asked, hugging John to him.

"After all this time, do you still doubt?" she asked, sounding halfway between exasperated and pitying. She reached out and gently stroked John's hair, much as she had done for Nuada when he was young. "Do you not understand what this place is? What we have accomplished?"

Nuada did not understand. But when his mother again commanded him to rise, he could do nothing but follow. If there was hope for John, he would do anything.

Boann set a quick pace, racing through the cavern with a sure-footedness that made Nuada think she knew exactly where she was going.

Moving away from the cooling embers, the world became too dark to see. Boann did not break stride, and Nuada kept his senses trained on her. His body was tired, and John was not light. It was hard to keep up, but Nuada did not stumble.

Slowly, the world around them began to lighten. A gentle breeze stirred Nuada's hair, bringing with it a pleasingly fresh scent.

"Hurry. We are almost there," Boann called. She had outdistanced Nuada, and her sudden eagerness made her increase her stride further.

As the light grew by shades, Nuada realized there were no longer cave walls surrounding him, but proper trees. Ancient, old fellows. Their branches intertwined above Nuada, creating a different kind of tunnel, but through them Nuada thought he glimpsed sky.

That should be impossible. They were still deep underground, and only going deeper. But, as they continued on, Nuada could see the stars peeking out between the tree limbs. The light grew stronger, and he could no longer deny they were in the middle of a very old forest.

Boann suddenly stopped. When Nuada caught up, he could see why. She stood at the top of a ridge, and before them was stretched out a plain that seemed to go on forever. Mountains bracketed it on the right, and a forest stretched out on the left. Right in the middle of it was a tree so massive that it reached up to touch the sky.

"Aiglin." Nuada looked to see tears in his mother's eyes.

"He's too far away to help John," Nuada said, feeling his heart sink. He could no more contemplate Aiglin's return than his mother's, needing to focus on the faint hope that somehow they could save John.

Shaking her head, Boann offered a gentle smile. "Have you forgotten everything? Look around you."

Instead of letting him do that, she pulled him to the left into the trees. It wasn't long before he realized what she was leading him to.

Aiglin reached to the heavens, but his reach was long. His branches spread out in all directions, some so long and tangled that they reached back to the earth. One such crooked branch—easily bigger than the Royal Palace—had fallen to earth in the heart of this forest.

Flowers adorned the giant limb, with smaller branches splitting off in different directions. The flowers glowed, and Boann took Nuada to the largest of them. "Aiglin has provided, as I knew he would. He would not have called if there was no hope. But, hurry, we have no time."

At their approach, one of the giant petals dropped down, making a ramp to let them enter into the heart of the flower. The glow was like soft sunshine, and Nuada could feel the energy of it.

"What do we do?"

Boann gestured, and said, "Look."

A flower on the end of a vine slithered close to them. It bloomed in the light of the much larger flower, and Nuada could see it held a dagger.

Nuada looked questioningly at his mother, who made an encouraging gesture. Gently, Nuada set John down in the heart of the flower and then reached for the dagger.

Or, he tried to.

When he made to grasp it, his fingers slipped right through it. A strange energy passed into him, vibrating him at the level of his soul.

Understanding what this was, Nuada held onto that sensation. This time, when he reached for the dagger, he did not pick it up with his physical body. Instead, he used his soul to hold on.

"A soul-dagger?" He looked to his mother, startled to see how pale her spirit was.

Before he could say anything of that, she waved a hand towards John and said, "See with new sight, my son."

Nuada's breath caught when he looked at his husband. Now, he saw John with his third eye fully open. John's soul was bleeding, burned and shredded. The damage was so extensive; Nuada had no idea how he could possibly heal him.

"Not even Aiglin could mend this," he said softly.

"He doesn't need to. He's given you everything you need to save your husband," Boann said. "What are you willing to sacrifice for him?"

"Anything. Everything."

"Then do that." She moved to kneel on the other side of the flower, clearly leaving it to Nuada to figure out.

Nuada frowned, looking between the dagger and John. Why a dagger? Surely the nectar of Aiglin would be a purer healing tonic than any medicine or potion of humans or elves. This dagger could not harm flesh but it could cut a soul. How was that useful?

Nuada wasn't sure what his mother meant for him to do, and it seemed so hopeless to him. What had Nuada to give? What could heal such hurt?

With his free hand, Nuada reached out to stroke John's cheek. He still looked beautiful, no matter what damage was done. The ache of losing John bloomed in Nuada's chest, sharp and painful. This was a pain he would carry for the rest of his life. He knew that even as John was wounded, so was he.

The dagger pulsed again, and suddenly Nuada realized what he was supposed to do.

With one last touch to John's face, Nuada placed both hands upon the dagger and plunged it into his heart. It wasn't painful the way a dagger burying itself into his chest should feel were it an ordinary weapon. Instead, it felt like the soul-dagger set off the pain Nuada was already feeling, sharpening it and highlighting it so that Nuada knew the full extent of what he suffered.

Twisting the knife, he cut into his grief, embracing the pain this caused. Slowly, he withdrew the knife, and there was a wound to his soul that remained. It blazed to his third eye, spilling out like blood but glowing bright.

Still holding the dagger in one hand, Nuada bathed his other hand in the bright substance of his soul. When he had a handful, he transferred it to the deepest of John's wounds—the one over his heart, the one that might have been there before John ever passed beyond the Shadow Wall.

Nuada's soul slid into John, but that wasn't enough. Setting aside the dagger, Nuada could no longer see what damage they were both suffering. It didn't matter. Gently, he gathered John into his arms.

"I need you to hear me, John," Nuada said softly. "I'm more sorry than you can know for the hurt I have caused you. All I want is the chance to prove it—to spend the rest of our days showing you how much I want you with me. Please forgive me. Come back to me. Fight for me, John. Fight."

There was no reaction from John. Disheartened, Nuada brushed a kiss against his lips, and again pressed his forehead to John's. Inside, he felt the absence of the wall he'd erected to protect himself—the wall keeping John from feeling whatever was possible for a human to feel in an elven bond. Nuada had cut away the wall when he'd cut into his heart, and he no longer tried to hide his feelings.

A soft hitch of breath drew Nuada's attention. He looked at John, and saw the color returning to his cheeks. His chest expanded with a breath and then another, each deeper and fuller than before until he was breathing normally again. John's eyes fluttered, and then finally opened.

"John? Are you alright?"

Frowning, John needed a moment before he muttered, "No, I'm not alright. I feel like roadkill."

Nuada could feel the truth behind John's words through their bond. John felt awful, yes, but it was not the life-threatening awful he'd felt when he'd burned in the heart of the soul-fire. He was getting stronger too.

Nuada's breath caught, and he swallowed back the emotion threatening to rise up in his throat. He could see now that John was mending. Nuada wasn't going to lose his husband. He didn't deserve it, but he would get his second chance after all.

"You do look horrible," Nuada said with a faint smile.

"Thanks a lot." John shot him a dirty look, but there was no heat behind it.

With Nuada's help, John sat up and looked around. He immediately spotted Boann, who was patiently waiting for them.

"You're here!" John said. "Are you okay?"

Seeing she had their attention, Boann slid closer and gestured towards John's arm.

"She wants you to give her your hand," Nuada said.

Awkward and clearly confused, John offered his hand. He did so as if to offer a handshake, but Boann grabbed his wrist to correct him. Palm to palm, she listened to his thoughts.

Pressed so close to John, Nuada could hear her probing through their bond. He looked at her in turn, and he was grieved to see that spending millennia in an evil toxic mess had left its mark on her.

But already her inner strength shone through. She soaked up Aiglin's energy, and Nuada knew it would be no time at all before her power was fully restored. Doubtless, long before John had healed.

Withdrawing her hand, Boann said in English, "Thank you, John Myers. You have done an immeasurable good this day."

"Oh, it wasn't-"

Boann did not let him refuse her gratitude. Pressing a finger to his lips, she said sternly, "You do not contradict a queen."

John clearly had no idea how to respond to that, and Nuada smiled. More gently, Boann said, "You are worthy of our admiration. You have freed me from an endless imprisonment and destroyed an evil so ancient that there is no name for it. You have returned Aiglin to his people, and in time, there _will_ be peace between your kind and ours because of your actions this day."

Glancing at Nuada, Boann smiled and said, "You have also broken through my son's walls and earned his love. What you have done is extraordinary."

John seemed to struggle with what to respond to in her words, but eventually he turned to Nuada and said, "You love me?"

"Yes. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it," Nuada said. "If you would have me, I would ask you to stay."

Nuada could feel that John's mind was reeling. It shouldn't be surprising that John was taken aback by Nuada's admission. It was certainly an about-face from their recent fight.

There weren't words to adequately express how sorry Nuada was for the pain he'd caused, and there wasn't time to explain why he'd said what he did or to prove that he was serious and would not do it again.

He sought out the bond between them. All of John was open to him. He could feel John's emotions, the confusion and hesitance. But there was more. Nuada realized that John was starting to pick up on Nuada's side of things. He saw the moment when John began to realize what it was.

"You . . . you really do love me." There was wonder in John's voice.

"I do."

At this admission, Nuada could feel John buffeted by emotions in a sudden tumult. It was a long moment before John said quietly, "I would like to stay."

It was in that moment that Nuada felt John's love for him. His love was a fragile, guarded thing. John's acknowledgment of it was shaky at best.

But it was there, and it took Nuada's breath away. Unable to help himself, he cupped John's head and pressed a soft kiss to John's lips. "Then stay."

John looked amazed and bewildered. Nuada could feel that too much was happening too fast. He was still recovering from almost dying and now the man he thought hated him actually loved him, and John was just realizing that his own feelings ran much deeper than he'd been prepared to admit. It was all too much.

Knowing that John needed a moment, Nuada finally turned his attention to his mother. She was watching them with a quiet, tender smile. It hit Nuada in that moment that she was there. After a thousand years of thinking her gone, she was there. "I thought you were dead. We all did."

"Yes, I know." Her smile turned rueful. "I suppose that was for the best. There was no point in anyone following me. Only a human could free me, and anyone else would simply have shared my fate."

"What happened? How did you become trapped?" Nuada asked. In the circle of his arms, John also looked interested and grateful for the reprieve from dealing with his own feelings.

Boann affected an elegant shrug. "It's a long story, but not one that's important now." She stood up and looked through the foliage where Aiglin could be seen in the distance. "Aiglin is all that matters now. After all this time, we have finally returned to him. There he is."

John craned his neck to see, but the view was obscured from the heart of the flower. Gently, Nuada helped him to his feet. With an arm wrapped around his husband and his cheek pressed against John's soft hair, they both looked at Aiglin in the distance.

"Wow."

Nuada smiled at John's disbelieving tone. They all stood there soaking up Aiglin returned. Nuada could feel his power emanating from the flower they stood in. It was stronger than he remembered. Gentle strength.

"It was here the whole time?" John asked. He then looked around. "Where are we?"

Turning, Boann answered, "This is Aiglin's Realm. I cannot say if he has been here the whole time, but he is here now, and he has opened a path for us to once again shelter under his leaves."

"And Bethmoora?" John frowned. "Everyone just got settled in there. Will they all move?"

"Not all of them," Boann said. "Bethmoora is the gateway city. It protects the path to Aiglin— a path that could only be found by reclaiming the Nightlands and destroying the ancient evil blocking the way. Only by working together—elf and human both—could that be accomplished. Aiglin chose this course on purpose. He wants us to be together."

She smiled at John. "Bethmoora is not a kingdom for magical beings alone, any more than Aiglin is. Where there is one human, there will be more. Your friends will come looking for you eventually, if only to make sure you are alright. They will be curious and will seek Aiglin too. Word will spread, and more will seek him. Some will stay in Bethmoora and some will stay here. Once more, we shall live beside each other. With your marriage, you will set an example of how to do that in peace."

She looked back at Aiglin, as if her eyes were irresistibly drawn that way. "The old hurts will be mended. This time, we will get it right."

Boann said no more, her thoughts clearly centered on Aiglin in the distance. They all fell silent, contemplating the tree. Nuada soaked up the moment, holding John close.

Their quiet was interrupted when John suddenly startled. He looked at his feet, and Nuada could see a vine had slipped around his ankle. It seemed to be tugging at him.

John leaned down to untangle himself from the vine. The moment he touched it, the vine lit up brighter than the flower they were standing in. Rapidly, a new flower grew at the end of the vine. It was three times bigger than the one that had held the soul-dagger, and it remained closed.

"Go on," Boann encouraged. "Aiglin has a gift for you."

John frowned at her as he hesitantly reached out to the closed flower. At his touch, the flower bloomed in a burst of sunlight. Inside, there was a giant seed.

When she saw it, Boann gasped.

"What is it?" John asked. He had been about to reach out to the seed, but paused at her reaction.

Smiling, Boann shook her head. "We have lingered here too long. We must return to tell the others what has happened. Take the seed, John. You will have need of it."

She did not wait to see if he did that, but walked away, leaving them alone in the flower.

"Was that weird?" John asked.

Nuada answered with a shrug. His heart swelled inside of him, though. He was still getting used to having his mother back, but this was so like her. He hadn't realized until this moment how much he missed it— and how much he could look forward to more of the same now that she was back.

"Go on, John. A gift from Aiglin is no small thing."

John stretched out his hand toward the seed, but then paused before touching it. Instead, he turned to Nuada and reached out to him.

Curious, Nuada took his hand. The connection returned between them at the contact. Nuada could feel John's desire to share this moment with him, which touched Nuada more than words could say.

He felt the power in the seed when John finally touched it.

_You have done well, John._

The voice was different than the one John had heard on their wedding day, but Nuada knew it. It was the same voice he had heard deliver the Prophecy of Bethmoora so long ago. It was Aiglin.

The seed glowed bright, and there was a rush of emotion and information that passed to John from it. Too much for John to hold onto, but Nuada knew that anything Aiglin said would settle into John's bones to come to life when he most needed it.

Right now, the only thing John caught was, "You gave me your heart."

"Yes." Nuada smiled.

John huffed, as if Nuada hadn't understood. "No, you _literally_ gave me your heart."

They both glanced at where Nuada had dropped the soul-dagger. "So, I did."

John shook his head, muttering, "Elves are so bizarre."

He would have turned back to the seed, but Nuada stopped him. Nuada could feel the warmth of emotion from John, the tangled joy and incredulity that Nuada's actions engendered in him. Nuada's smile softened, and he couldn't help himself. He kissed John again.

John kissed back. His emotions were everywhere, but his desire was clear. He wanted to be with Nuada. Nuada wanted the same.

In that moment, there were no more doubts about what the future held for their marriage. Strange as it seemed, the loved each other, and they both knew that they would weather all the challenges ahead. Together.

***

With an arm over Nuada's shoulder, John trudged down the long corridor. He was holding the giant seed in his free arm. Much as the lamps had lit themselves as John had walked along into the corridor, now a wall of vines was growing apace with them. Flowers bloomed, some giving off light and some perfume. When they had walked back over the empty space the ancient evil had dwelled in, already Aiglin was reclaiming the space. Real trees were beginning to grow, and a carpet of grass covered anything that wasn't stone.

The journey back felt twice as long as the journey in. John glanced over at the Queen. He could tell she was anxious to return to everyone, but she had refused their offer to go on ahead.

Nuada would be happy to carry him, John knew, but John didn't want that. He felt vulnerable enough right now.

It was weird. He could _feel_ Nuada now. He knew that what he was getting was a pale imitation of what Nuada got on his end, but that was more than enough for John. It was easier now. He could tell Nuada was sincere in loving him, and John was blown away. Only a day ago—was it only a day? —their bitter fight had convinced John that their marriage was doomed.

They were going to have to work on their communication, John could see, but being able to share feelings and the occasional thought would help tremendously with that.

It would take quite a bit of getting used to for John—all of this would—but they had time. John was carrying a part of Nuada's soul inside him now. He wasn't sure how exactly, but surely something like that would change a man.

It was too much to think about now. John was grateful when the corridor ended, and they were finally back in the cavern.

John was surprised to find everyone there to greet them. It was their wedding all over again. Magical creatures had found places on all the walls. The King and Nuala were standing with the Butcher Guards and the lords and advisors of court. Everyone was talking or hooting or snarling or whatever noise was natural to them.

But a hush fell over the crowd in a wave when the three of them finally emerged from the corridor. John could see the stunned expression on every face as the Queen boldly strode out before everyone.

"Behold, I am returned from shadow, thanks to the young human my son has wed," she said. Somehow, she was able to project her voice so that all could hear her words without yelling. "The darkness that lingered here is vanquished forevermore, and a place for hearts tired and hurting has taken its place. Beyond this point is Aiglin's Realm. All who would esteem him are welcome."

She looked at John expectantly. Hesitant, and yet knowing what she wanted, John let go of Nuada and walked forward. He could feel every eye on him as he slowly made his way to the great stone wall. The seed in his arm was vibrating, and when John let it go into the dirt, it dove in like it was a boat in water.

A handful of seconds passed, and then a spout erupted from the very center of the circle. It grew rapidly, towering over everyone in no more than a minute. John backed up as it kept expanding. As huge as the circle was, the trunk of the tree grew to fill it out. Indeed, the stone broke in a few places as the tree finally settled into its girth.

But it kept growing tall. John thought it must be the new connection to Nuada that made him sure that the branches of the tree were burrowing into the very rock about their heads and growing into an entire forest on the surface.

"It's Aiglin," someone said nearby.

"No, it's a seed of Aiglin," Queen Boann corrected. "Aiglin himself is waiting beyond, but he would not have even those here feel abandoned. We shall all feel his power."

John jumped as stone cracked and shattered further out into the cavern. A torrent of water broke through. It would take several days, but again, John just knew that it would flood the cavern. The Royal Palace would be a literal island now, floating in a huge underground lake.

The water wasn't the only change. Plants began to grow out of the walls, some of which birthed Elementals. The colossal plant-gods walked down into the cavern until even these giants were lost from sight.

But their work was still seen. Enormous trees—small in comparison to the great behemoth before them—began to grow up, filling the void of the cavern. Their branches seemed to hold up the ceiling, and more plants grew on the stone there. They burrowed up, pulling sunlight down into this dark world.

John could feel the intense satisfaction radiating from Nuada. This was how it should be. It was what had been missing, what had been wrong with Bethmoora. The very air was refreshed. The stately houses in the town nearest them were made even more beautiful by the growth of nature all around them.

"My people!" Queen Boann said when the initial wonder and amazement had drained away. "We are here now at the fulfillment of Aiglin's prophecy. The Promise of Bethmoora is a Promise no more, but a reality."

A great cheer rose up. It was not the celebratory joy John had seen on his wedding day. There was something deeper running through the crowd. They were happy, yes, but shaken too. John could see tears on the faces of some of the elves standing around him. Even with the small window John was getting into Nuada's mind, John didn't think he could truly understand what it meant to these people to have Aiglin returned to them.

Some of them practically raced down the hallway John had just come from. Nuada put John's arm over his shoulder again and helped him over to where Balor and Nuala were waiting, and out of the way of the crowd.

"Nuada. John." Nuala met them as they came. "I can't believe . . . How did you . . . Mother is _alive_?"

The three of them watched Balor and Boann greet each other a few feet away. Balor looked just as shocked as everyone else.

"I share your surprise," Nuada said. "To think she's been here all this time and I-"

"Hey!" John elbowed Nuada in the side. "None of that. This is a happy day. I almost died. I don't want any more drama today."

Nuada looked incredulously at John, and then shook his head. John saw that faint smile of his, though.

"Yes, indeed," Nuala said. "This is the best of days. I can't believe you have done all of this. How did you know to go?"

John glanced at Nuada. "That's a bit of a sore subject, actually. It's enough it all turned out alright."

"Indeed," Queen Boann said. She and Balor approached them, their fingers intertwined. "It is a new day. A new start. For everyone."

King Balor said something in elvish. John was getting a bit better at picking out a few words—and his connection to Nuada helped a bit—but he still needed Nuala to translate.

"The King says he owes you the greatest of debts, one he could never repay."

John knew the King meant well, but he scowled. Sharply, he said to the King, "Would you owe a debt to Nuada if he had rescued your wife on his own?" The King and Nuala were clearly taken aback at John's reply. John assumed the answer, and kept going. "No? Because he's your son and she's your wife. Of course, he'd go rescue her. Well, I'm family too, aren't I? Then you don't owe me anything either."

It was a challenge. John didn't understand Court politics, but he had had enough these last few months to know he was never going to like them. It was fine for a handful of hours while Court was being held, but John was tired of the formal way his husband's family acted.

He was ready to take whatever blowback he got for that stance. Surprisingly, Balor smiled. He spoke slowly and with great care, as if speaking the language was as unfamiliar to him as elvish was to John. "You are right, my son. It was a blessed day when you joined our family. We are much enriched for your presence."

John noted the effort the King made on his behalf to speak John's language. He was touched and a little embarrassed by the praise.

"You make our family complete," the Queen said. Only now did John realize she had learned his language just by touching his hand. "We are happy to have you here."

"Yes," Nuada said, "We are happy."

Nuada wrapped an arm around John's middle, pulling him close. Tired, John leaned on his strength. As one, they all looked out over the rapidly changing landscape. Someday, humans would share this home with magical beings. John knew that between his husband and him, they would be ready when that day came.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank my beta kanadka for helping me out. All remaining mistakes are mine.


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